IE  SNATCHED  UP  A  HEAVY  BRONZE  CANDELABRUM,  AND  BLANDISHED 
IT  IN  THE  AIR,  CRYING:  "THE  FIRST  WHO  APPROACHES  IS  A  DEAD 

MAN!" 


THE 

COUNT'S 
MILLIONS 


Translated  from  the   French  of 

EMILE  GABORIAU 


Illustrated  by 

JOHN    SLOAN 


Charles  Scribner's  Sons 
New  York  1913 


COPYRIGHT,  igis,  BY 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


:<:  :    4 

"i** 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


He  snatched  up  a  heavy  bronze  candelabrum,  and 
brandished  it  in  the  air,  crying:  "The  first  who 
approaches  is  a  dead  man!"  .  .  .  Frontispiece 

FACING 
PAGE 

"What  is  this  bill?     Give  it  me  to  look  at!"    ,          34 


She  pointed  to  the  paper  lying  upon  the  floor,  and 

gasped:  "There!   There!" 218 

The  young  men  whom  Chupin  was  watching  were 
far  from  suspecting  that  they  were  under  sur- 
veillance ,  .  334 


THE   COUNT'S   MILLIONS 

PASCAL  AND  MARGUERITE. 
I. 

IT  was  a  Thursday  evening,  the  fifteenth  of  October; 
and  although  only  half-past  six  o'clock,  it  had  been  dark 
for  some  time  already.  The  weather  was  cold,  and  the 
sky  was  as  black  as  ink,  while  the  wind  blew  tem- 
pestuously, and  the  rain  fell  in  torrents. 

The  servants  at  the  Hotel  de  Chalusse,  one  of  the 
most  magnificent  mansions  in  the  Rue  de  Courcelles  in 
Paris,  were  assembled  in  the  porter's  lodge,  a  little 
building  comprising  a  couple  of  rooms  standing  on  the 
right  hand  side  of  the  great  gateway.  Here,  as  in  all 
large  mansions,  the  "  concierge  "  or  porter,  M.  Bouri- 
geau,  was  a  person  of  immense  importance,  always  able 
and  disposed  to  make  any  one  who  was  inclined  to 
doubt  his  authority,  feel  it  in  cruel  fashion.  As  could 
be  easily  seen,  he  held  all  the  other  servants  in  his 
power.  He  could  let  them  absent  themselves  without 
leave,  if  he  chose,  and  conceal  all  returns  late  at  night 
after  the  closing  of  public  balls  and  wine-shops.  Thus, 
it  is  needless  to  say  that  M.  Bourigeau  and  his  wife 
were  treated  by  their  fellow-servants  with  the  most 
servile  adulation. 

The  owner  of  the  house  was  not  at  home  that  evening, 
so  that  M.  Casimir,  the  count's  head  valet,  was  serving 


2  J-HEv&DtJNT'S    MILLIONS 

coffije:for  the  ibtenefiVof.  all  the  retainers.  And  while 
the  company  sipped  the  fragrant  beverage  which  had 
been  generously  tinctured  with  cognac,  provided  by  the 
butler,  they  all  united  in  abusing  their  common  enemy, 
the  master  of  the  house.  For  the  time  being,  a  pert 
little  waiting-maid,  with  an  odious  turn-up  nose,  had 
the  floor.  She  was  addressing  her  remarks  to  a  big, 
burly,  and  rather  insolent-looking  fellow,  who  had  been 
added  only  the  evening  before  to  the  corps  of  footmen. 
"  The  place  is  really  intolerable,"  she  was  saying.  "  The 
wages  are  high,  the  food  of  the  very  best,  the  livery  just 
such  as  would  show  off  a  good-looking  man  to  the  best 
advantage,  and  Madame  Leon,  the  housekeeper,  who 
has  entire  charge  of  everything,  is  not  too  lynx-eyed." 

"And  the  work?" 

"A  mere  nothing.  Think,  there  are  eighteen  of  us 
to  serve  only  two  persons,  the  count  and  Mademoiselle 
Marguerite.  But  then  there  is  never  any  pleasure, 
never  any  amusement  here." 

"What!  is  one  bored  then?" 

"Bored  to  death.  This  grand  house  is  worse  than 
a  tomb.  No  receptions,  no  dinners — nothing.  Would 
you  believe  it,  I  have  never  seen  the  reception-rooms ! 
They  are  always  closed;  and  the  furniture  is  'dropping 
to  pieces  under  its  coverings.  There  are  not  three  vis- 
itors in  the  course  of  a  month." 

She  was  evidently  incensed,  and  the  new  footman 
seemed  to  share  her  indignation.  "  Why,  how  is  it  ?  " 
he  exclaimed.  "  Is  the  count  an  owl  ?  A  man  who's 
not  yet  fifty  years  old,  and  who's  said  to  be  worth  sev- 
eral millions." 

"Yes,  millions;  you  may  safely  say  it — and  perhaps 
ten,  perhaps  twenty  millions  too." 

"Then  all  the  more  reason  why  there  should  be 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  3 

something  going  on  here.  What  does  he  do  with  him- 
self alone,  all  the  blessed  day  ?  " 

"  Nothing.  He  reads  in  the  library,  or  wanders  about 
the  garden.  Sometimes,  in  the  evening,  he  drives  with 
Mademoiselle  Marguerite  to  the  Bois  de  Boulogne  in 
a  closed  carriage;  but  that  seldom  happens.  Besides, 
there  is  no  such  thing  as  teasing  the  poor  man.  Pve 
been  in  the  house  for  six  months,  and  I've  never  heard 
him  say  anything  but :  c  yes ' ;  '  no ' ;  '  do  this  ' ;  '  very 
well ' ;  '  retire.'  You  would  think  these  are  the  only 
words  he  knows.  Ask  M.  Casimir  if  I'm  not  right." 

"  Our  guv'nor  isn't  very  gay,  that's  a  fact,"  re- 
sponded the  valet. 

The  footman  was  listening  with  a  serious  air,  as  if 
greatly  interested  in  the  character  of  the  people  whom 
he  was  to  serve.  "  And  mademoiselle,"  he  asked,  "  what 
does  she  say  to  such  an  existence?" 

"  Bless  me !  during  the  six  months  she  has  been  here, 
she  has  never  once  complained." 

"  If  she  is  bored,"  added  M.  Casimir,  "  she  conceals 
it  bravely." 

"  Naturally  enough,"  sneered  the  waiting-maid,  with 
an  ironical  gesture;  "each  month  that  mademoiselle 
remains  here,  brings  her  too  much  money  for  her  to 
complain." 

By  the  laugh  that  greeted  this  reply,  and  by  the  looks 
the  older  servants  exchanged,  the  new-comer  must  have 
realized  that  he  had  discovered  the  secret  skeleton  hid- 
den in  every  house.  "What!  what!"  he  exclaimed, 
on  fire  with  curiosity ;  "  is  there  really  anything  in  that  ? 
To  tell  the  truth,  I  was  inclined  to  doubt  it." 

His  companions  were  evidently  about  to  tell  him  all 
they  knew,  or  rather  all  they  thought  they  knew,  when 
the  front-door  bell  rang  vigorously. 


4  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

"  There  he  comes !  "  exclaimed  the  concierge ;  "  but 
he's  in  too  much  of  a  hurry;  he'll  have  to  wait 
awhile." 

He  sullenly  pulled  the  cord,  however ;  the  heavy  door 
swayed  on  its  hinges,  and  a  cab-driver,  breathless  and 
hatless,  burst  into  the  room,  crying,  "  Help !  help ! " 

The  servants  sprang  to  their  feet. 

"  Make  haste  !  "  continued  the  driver.  "  I  was  bring- 
ing a  gentleman  here — you  must  know  him.  He's  out- 
side, in  my  vehicle " 

Without  pausing  to  listen  any  longer,  the  servants 
rushed  out,  and  the  driver's  incoherent  explanation  at 
once  became  intelligible.  At  the  bottom  of  the  cab,  a 
roomy  four-wheeler,  a  man  was  lying  all  of  a  heap, 
speechless  and  motionless.  He  must  have  fallen  for- 
ward, face  downward,  and  owing  to  the  jolting  of  the 
vehicle  his  head  had  slipped  under  the  front  seat. 

"  Poor  devil !  "  muttered  M.  Casimir,  "  he  must  have 
had  a  stroke  of  apoplexy."  The  valet  was  peering  into 
the  vehicle  as  he  spoke,  and  his  comrades  were  ap- 
proaching, when  suddenly  he  drew  back,  uttering  a 
cry  of  horror.  "  Ah,  my  God  !  it  is  the  count !  " 

Whenever  there  is  an  accident  in  Paris,  a  throng  of 
inquisitive  spectators  seems  to  spring  up  from  the  very 
pavement,  and  indeed  more  than  fifty  persons  had 
already  congregated  round  about  the  vehicle.  This 
circumstance  restored  M.  Casimir's  composure;  or,  at 
least,  some  portion  of  it.  "You  must  drive  into  the 
courtyard,"  he  said,  addressing  the  cabman.  "  M. 
Bourigeau,  open  the  gate,  if  you  please."  And  then, 
turning  to  another  servant,  he  added : 

"  And  you  must  make  haste  and  fetch  a  physician — 
no  matter  who.  Run  to  the  nearest  doctor,  and  don't 
return  until  you  bring  one  with  you." 


THE   COUNT'S    MILLIONS  5 

The  concierge  had  opened  the  gate,  but  the  driver 
had  disappeared;  they  called  him,  and  on  receiving  no 
reply  the  valet  seized  the  reins  and  skilfully  guided  the 
cab  through  the  gateway. 

Having  escaped  the  scrutiny  of  the  crowd,  it  now  re- 
mained to  remove  the  count  from  the  vehicle,  and  this 
was  a  difficult  task,  on  account  of  the  singular  position 
of  his  body;  still,  they  succeeded  at  last,  by  opening 
both  doors  of  the  cab,  the  three  strongest  men  uniting 
in  their  efforts.  Then  they  placed  him  in  a  large  arm- 
chair, carried  him  to  his  own  room,  and  speedily  had 
him  undressed  and  in  bed. 

He  had  so  far  given  no  sign  of  life;  and  as  he  lay 
there  with  his  head  weighing  heavily  on  the  pillow,  you 
might  have  thought  that  all  was  over.  His  most  inti- 
mate friend  would  scarcely  have  recognized  him.  His 
features  were  swollen  and  discolored;  his  eyes  were 
closed,  and  a  dark  purple  circle,  looking  almost  like  a 
terrible  bruise,  extended  round  them.  A  spasm  had 
twisted  his  lips,  and  his  distorted  mouth,  which  was 
drawn  on  one  side  and  hung  half  open,  imparted  a  most 
sinister  expression  to  his  face.  In  spite  of  every  pre- 
caution, he  had  been  wounded  as  he  was  removed  from 
the  cab.v  His  forehead  had  been  grazed  by  a  piece  of 
iron,  and  a  tiny  stream  of  blood  was  trickling  down 
upon  his  face.  However,  he  still  breathed;  and  by  lis- 
tening attentively,  one  could  distinguish  a  faint  rattling 
in  his  throat. 

The  servants,  who  had  been  so  garrulous  a  few  mo- 
ments before,  were  silent  now.  They  lingered  in  the 
room,  exchanging  glances  of  mute  consternation.  Their 
faces  were  pale  and  sad,  and  there  were  tears  in  the 
eyes  of  some  of  them.  What  was  passing  in  their 
minds?  Perhaps  they  were  overcome  by  that  uncon- 


6  THE   COUNT'S   MILLIONS 

querable  fear  which  sudden  and  unexpected  death  al- 
ways provokes.  Perhaps  they  unconsciously  loved  this 
master,  whose  bread  they  ate.  Perhaps  their  grief  was 
only  selfishness,  and  they  were  merely  wondering  what 
would  become  of  them,  where  they  should  find  another 
situation,  and  if  it  would  prove  a  good  one.  Not  know- 
ing what  to  do,  they  talked  together  in  subdued  voices, 
each  suggesting  some  remedy  he  had  heard  spoken  of 
for  such  cases.  The  more  sensible  among  them  were 
proposing  to  go  and  inform  mademoiselle  or  Madame 
Leon,  whose  rooms  were  on  the  floor  above,  when  the 
rustling  of  a  skirt  against  the  door  suddenly  made  them 
turn.  The  person  whom  they  called  "mademoiselle" 
was  standing  on  the  threshold. 

Mademoiselle  Marguerite  was  a  beautiful  young  girl, 
about  twenty  years  of  age.  She  was  a  brunette  of 
medium  height,  with  big  gloomy  eyes  shaded  by  thick 
eyebrows.  Heavy  masses  of  jet-black  hair  wreathed 
her  lofty  but  rather  sad  and  thoughtful  forehead.  There 
was  something  peculiar  in  her  face — an  expression  of 
concentrated  suffering,  and  a  sort  of  proud  resignation, 
mingled  with  timidity. 

"What  has  happened?"  she  asked,  gently.  "What 
is  the  cause  of  all  the  noise  I  have  heard?  I  have  rung 
three  times  and  the  bell  was  not  answered." 

No  one  ventured  to  reply,  and  in  her  surprise  she 
cast  a  hasty  glance  around.  From  where  she  stood,  she 
could  not  see  the  bed  stationed  in  an  alcove;  but  she 
instantly  noted  the  dejected  attitude  of  the  servants,  the 
clothing  scattered  about  the  floor,  and  the  disorder  that 
pervaded  this  magnificent  but  severely  furnished  cham- 
ber, which  was  only  lighted  by  the  lamp  which  M. 
Bourigeau,  the  concierge,  carried.  A  sudden  dread 
seized  her;  she  shuddered,  and  in  a  faltering  voice  she 


THE   COUNT'S    MILLIONS  7 

added :  "  Why  are  you  all  here  ?  Speak,  tell  me  what 
has  happened/' 

M.  Casimir  stepped  forward.  "A  great  misfortune, 
mademoiselle,  a  terrible  misfortune.  The  count " 

And  he  paused,  frightened  by  what  he  was  about  to 
say. 

But  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  had  understood  him. 
She  clasped  both  hands  to  her  heart,  as  if  she  had  re- 
ceived a  fatal  wound,  and  uttered  the  single  word: 
"  Lost ! " 

The  next  moment  she  turned  as  pale  as  death,  her 
head  drooped,  her  eyes  closed,  and  she  staggered  as  if 
about  to  fall.  Two  maids  sprang  forward  to  sup- 
port her,  but  she  gently  repulsed  them,  murmuring, 
"  Thanks  !  thanks  !  I  am  strong  now." 

She  was,  in  fact,  sufficiently  strong  to  conquer  her 
weakness.  She  summoned  all  her  resolution,  and,  paler 
than  a  statue,  with  set  teeth  and  dry,  glittering  eyes, 
she  approached  the  alcove.  She  stood  there  for  a  mo- 
ment perfectly  motionless,  murmuring  a  few  unintelligi- 
ble words ;  but  at  last,  crushed  by  her  sorrow,  she  sank 
upon  her  knees  beside  the  bed,  buried  her  face  in  the 
counterpane  and  wept. 

Deeply  moved  by  the  sight  of  this  despair,  the  ser- 
vants held  their  breath,  wondering  how  it  would  all 
end.  It  ended  suddenly.  The  girl  sprang  from  her 
knees,  as  if  a  gleam  of  hope  had  darted  through  her 
heart.  "  A  physician  !  "  she  said,  eagerly. 

"  I  have  sent  for  one,  mademoiselle,"  replied  M. 
Casimir.  And  hearing  a  voice  and  a  sound  of  foot- 
steps on  the  staircase,  he  added:  "And  fortunately, 
here  he  comes." 

The  doctor  entered.  He  was  a  young  man,  although 
his  head  was  almost  quite  bald.  He  was  short,  very 


8  THE   COUNTS    MILLIONS 

thin,  clean-shaven,  and  clad  in  black  from  head  to  foot. 
Without  a  word,  without  a  bow,  he  walked  straight 
to  the  bedside,  lifted  the  unconscious  man's  eyelids,  felt 
his  pulse,  and  uncovered  his  chest,  applying  his  ear  to 
it.  "  This  is  a  serious  case,"  he  said  at  the  close  of  his 
examination. 

Mademoiselle  Marguerite,  who  had  followed  his 
movements  with  the  most  poignant  anxiety,  could  not 
repress  a  sob.  "But  all  hope  is  not  lost,  is  it,  mon- 
sieur ? "  she  asked  in  a  beseeching  voice,  with  hands 
clasped  in  passionate  entreaty.  "You  will  save  him, 
will  you  not — you  will  save  him  ?  " 

"  One  may  always  hope  for  the  best." 

This  was  the  doctor's  only  answer.  He  had  drawn 
his  case  of  instruments  from  his  pocket,  and  was  test- 
ing the  points  of  his  lancets  on  the  tip  of  his  finger. 
When  he  had  found  one  to  his  liking :  "  I  must  ask 
you,  mademoiselle,"  said  he,  "  to  order  these  women  to 
retire,  and  to  retire  yourself.  The  men  will  remain  to 
assist  me,  if  I  require  help." 

She  obeyed  submissively,  but  instead  of  returning  to 
her  own  room,  she  remained  in  the  hall,  seating  her- 
self upon  the  lower  step  of  the  staircase  near  the  door, 
counting  the  seconds,  and  drawing  a  thousand  conjec- 
tures from  the  slightest  sound. 

Meanwhile,  inside  the  room,  the  physician  was  pro- 
ceeding slowly,  not  from  temperament  however,  but 
from  principle.  Dr.  Jodon — for  such  was  his  name — 
was  an  ambitious  man  who  played  a  part.  Educated  by 
a  "prince  of  science,"  more  celebrated  for  the  money 
he  gained  than  for  the  cures  he  effected,  he  copied  his 
master's  method,  his  gestures,  and  even  the  inflections 
of  his  voice.  By  casting  in  people's  eyes  the  same  pow- 
der as  his  teacher  had  employed,  he  hoped  to  obtain  the 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  9 

same  results :  a  large  practice  and  an  immense  fortune. 
In  his  secret  heart  he  was  by  no  means  disconcerted  by 
his  patient's  condition ;  on  the  contrary,  he  did  not  con- 
sider the  count's  state  nearly  as  precarious  as  it  really 
was. 

But  bleeding  and  cupping  alike  failed  to  bring  the 
sick  man  to  consciousness.  He  remained  speechless  and 
motionless;  the  only  result  obtained,  was  that  his 
breathing  became  a  trifle  easier.  Finding  his  endeav- 
ors fruitless,  the  doctor  at  last  declared  that  all  im- 
mediate remedies  were  exhausted,  that  "the  women" 
might  be  allowed  to  return,  and  that  nothing  now  re- 
mained but  to  wait  for  the  effect  of  the  remedies  he  was 
about  to  prescribe,  and  which  they  must  procure  from 
the  nearest  chemist. 

Any  other  man  would  have  been  touched  by  the 
agony  of  entreaty  contained  in  the  glance  that  Made- 
moiselle Marguerite  cast  upon  the  physician  as  she  re- 
turned into  the  room;  but  it  did  not  affect  him  in  the 
least.  He  calmly  said,  "I  cannot  give  my  decision  as  yet." 

"  My  God !  "  murmured  the  unhappy  girl ;  "  oh,  my 
God,  have  mercy  upon  me ! " 

But  the  doctor,  copying  his  model,  had  stationed  him- 
self near  the  fireplace,  with  his  elbow  leaning  on  the 
mantel-shelf,  in  a  graceful,  though  rather  pompous 
attitude.  "  Now,"  he  said,  addressing  his  remarks  to 
M.  Casimir,  "  I  desire  to  make  a  few  inquiries.  Is 
this  the  first  time  the  Count  de  Chalusse  has  had  such 
an  attack?" 

"  Yes,  sir — at  least  since  I  have  been  in  attendance 
upon  him." 

"  Very  good.  That  is  a  chance  in  our  favor.  Tell 
me — have  you  ever  heard  him  complain  of  vertigo,  or 
of  a  buzzing  in  his  ears  ?  " 


10  THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS 

"  Never." 

Mademoiselle  Marguerite  seemed  inclined  to  volun- 
teer some  remark,,  but  the  doctor  imposed  silence  upon 
her  by  a  gesture.,  and  continued  his  examination.  "  Is 
the  count  a  great  eater  ?  "  he  inquired.  "  Does  he  drink 
heavily?" 

"  The  count  is  moderation  itself,  monsieur,  and 
he  always  takes  a  great  deal  of  water  with  his 
wine." 

The  doctor  listened  with  an  air  of  intent  thoughtful- 
ness,  his  head  slightly  inclined  forward,  his  brow  con- 
tracted, and  his  under  lip  puffed  out,  while  from  time 
to  time  he  stroked  his  beardless  chin.  He  was  copying 
his  master.  i(  The  devil! "  he  said,  sotto  voce.  "  There 
must  be  some  cause  for  such  an  attack,  however. 
Nothing  in  the  count's  constitution  predisposes  him  to 

such  an  accident "  Then,  suddenly  turning  toward 

Mademoiselle  Marguerite :  "  Do  you  know,  mademoi- 
selle, whether  the  count  has  experienced  any  very  vio- 
lent emotion  during  the  past  few  days  ?  " 

"  Something  occurred  this  very  morning,  which 
seemed  to  annoy  him  very  much." 

"Ah!  now  we  have  it,"  said  the  doctor,  with  the  air 
of  an  oracle.  "Why  did  you  not  tell  me  all  this  at 
first?  It  will  be  necessary  for  you  to  give  me  the  par- 
ticulars, mademoiselle." 

The  young  girl  hesitated.  The  servants  were  dazed 
by  the  doctor's  manner;  but  Mademoiselle  Marguerite 
was  far  from  sharing  their  awe  and  admiration.  She 
would  have  given  anything  to  have  had  the  regular 
physician  of  the  household  there  instead  of  him !  As 
for  this  coarse  examination  in  the  presence  of  all  these 
servants,  and  by  the  bedside  of  a  man  who,  in  spite  of 
his  apparent  unconsciousness,  was,  perhaps,  able  to  hear 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  11 

and  to  comprehend,  she  looked  upon  it  as  a  breach  of 
delicacy,  even  of  propriety. 

"  It  is  of  the  most  urgent  importance  that  I  should 
be  fully  informed  of  these  particulars/'  repeated  the 
physician  peremptorily. 

After  such  an  assertion,  further  hesitation  was  out 
of  the  question.  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  seemed  to 
collect  her  thoughts,  and  then  she  sadly  said :  "  Just  as 
we  sat  down  to  breakfast  this  morning,  a  letter  was 
handed  to  the  count.  No  sooner  had  his  eyes  fallen 
upon  it,  than  he  turned  as  white  as  his  napkin.  He  rose 
from  his  seat  and  began  to  walk  hastily  up  and  down 
the  dining-room,  uttering  exclamations  of  anger  and 
sorrow.  I  spoke  to  him,  but  he  did  not  seem  to  hear 
me.  However,  after  a  few  moments,  he  resumed  his 
seat  at  the  table,  and  began  to  eat " 

"As  usual?" 

"  He  ate  more  than  usual,  monsieur.  Only  I  must 
tell  you  that  it  seemed  to  me  he  was  scarcely  conscious 
of  what  he  was  doing.  Four  or  five  times  he  left  the 
table,  and  then  came  back  again.  At  last,  after  quite 
a  struggle,  he  seemed  to  come  to  some  decision.  He 
tore  the  letter  to  pieces,  and  threw  the  pieces  out  of 
the  window  that  opens  upon  the  garden." 

Mademoiselle  Marguerite  expressed  herself  with  the 
utmost  simplicity,  and  there  was  certainly  nothing  par- 
ticularly extraordinary  in  her  story.  Still,  those  around 
her  listened  with  breathless  curiosity,  as  though  they 
were  expecting  some  startling  revelation,  so  much  does 
the  human  mind  abhor  that  which  is  natural  and  incline 
to  that  which  is  mysterious. 

Without  seeming  to  notice  the  effect  she  had  pro- 
duced, and  addressing  herself  to  the  physician  alone, 
the  girl  continued :  "  After  the  letter  was  destroyed, 


12  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

M.  de  Chalusse  seemed  himself  again.  Coffee  was 
served,  and  he  afterward  lighted  a  cigar  as  usual.  How- 
ever, he  soon  let  it  go  out.  I  dared  not  disturb  him  by 
any  remarks ;  but  suddenly  he  said  to  me : '  It's  strange, 
but  I  feel  very  uncomfortable/  A  moment  passed, 
without  either  of  us  speaking,  and  then  he  added :  '  I 
am  certainly  not  well.  Will  you  do  me  the  favor  to 
go  to  my  room  for  me?  Here  is  the  key  of  my  escri- 
toire; open  it,  and  on  the  upper  shelf  you  will  find  a 
small  bottle  which  please  bring  to  me.'  I  noticed  with 
some  surprise  that  M.  de  Chalusse,  who  usually  speaks 
very  distinctly,  stammered  and  hesitated  considerably  in 
making  this  request,  but,  unfortunately,  I  did  not  think 
much  about  it  at  the  time.  I  did  as  he  requested,  and 
he  poured  eight  or  ten  drops  of  the  contents  of  the  vial 
into  a  glass  of  water,  and  swallowed  it." 

So  intense  was  Dr.  Jodon's  interest  that  he  became 
himself  again.  He  forgot  to  attitudinize.  "And  after 
that  ?  "  he  asked,  eagerly. 

"After  that,  M.  de  Chalusse  seemed  to  feel  much 
better,  and  retired  to  his  study  as  usual.  I  fancied  that 
any  annoyance  the  letter  had  caused  him  was  forgotten ; 
but  I  was  wrong,  for  in  the  afternoon  he  sent  a  mes- 
sage, through  Madame  Leon,  requesting  me  to  join  him 
in  the  garden.  I  hastened  there,  very  much  surprised, 
for  the  weather  was  extremely  disagreeable.  '  Dear 
Marguerite/  he  said,  on  seeing  me,  '  help  me  to  find 
the  fragments  of  that  letter  which  I  flung  from  the 
window  this  morning.  I  would  give  half  my  fortune 
for  an  address  which  it  must  certainly  have  contained, 
but  which  I  quite  overlooked  in  my  anger/  I  helped 
him  as  he  asked.  He  might  have  reasonably  hoped  to 
succeed,  for  it  was  raining  when  the  scraps  of  paper 
were  thrown  out,  and  instead  of  flying  through  the  air, 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  13 

they  fell  directly  on  to  the  ground.  We  succeeded  in 
finding  a  large  number  of  the  scraps,  but  what  M.  de 
Chalusse  so  particularly  wanted  was  not  to  be  read  on 
any  one  of  them.  Several  times  he  spoke  of  his  regret, 
and  cursed  his  precipitation." 

M.  Bourigeau,  the  concierge,  and  M.  Casimir  ex- 
changed a  significant  smile.  They  had  seen  the  count 
searching  for  the  remnants  of  this  letter,  and  had 
thought  him  little  better  than  an  idiot.  But  now  every- 
thing was  explained. 

"  I  was  much  grieved  at  the  count's  disappointment," 
continued  Mademoiselle  Marguerite,  "but  suddenly  he 
exclaimed,  joyfully :  '  That  address — why,  such  a  per- 
son will  give  it  to  me — what  a  fool  I  am ! ' ; 

The  physician  evinced  such  absorbing  interest  in  this 
narrative  that  he  forgot  to  retain  his  usual  impassive 
attitude.  "  Such  a  person !  Who — who  was  this  per- 
son ?  "  he  inquired  eagerly,  without  apparently  realizing 
the  impropriety  of  his  question. 

But  the  girl  felt  indignant.  She  silenced  her  indis- 
creet questioner  with  a  haughty  glance,  and  in  the  dri- 
est possible  tone,  replied :  "  I  have  forgotten  the  name." 

Cut  to  the  quick,  the  doctor  suddenly  resumed  his 
master's  pose ;  but  all  the  same  his  imperturbable  sang- 
froid was  sensibly  impaired.  "  Believe  me,  mademoi- 
selle, that  interest  alone — a  most  respectful  interest — " 

She  did  not  even  seem  to  hear  his  excuse,  but  re- 
sumed :  "  I  know,  however,  monsieur,  that  M.  de  Cha- 
lusse intended  applying  to  the  police  if  he  failed  to  ob- 
tain this  address  from  the  person  in  question.  After 
this  he  appeared  to  be  entirely  at  ease.  At  three  o'clock 
he  rang  for  his  valet,  and  ordered  dinner  two  hours 
earlier  than  usual.  We  sat  down  to  table  at  about  half- 
past  four.  At  five  he  rose,  kissed  me  gayly,  and  left 


14  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

the  house  on  foot,  telling  me  that  he  was  confident  of 
success,  and  that  he  did  not  expect  to  return  before 
midnight/7  The  poor  child's  firmness  now  gave  way; 
her  eyes  filled  with  tears,  and  it  was  in  a  voice  choked 
with  sobs  that  she  added,  pointing  to  M.  de  Chalusse: 
"  But  at  half-past  six  they  brought  him  back  as  you  see 

him  now " 

An  interval  of  silence  ensued,  so  deep  that  one  could 
hear  the  faint  breathing  of  the  unconscious  man  still 
lying  motionless  on  his  bed.  However,  the  particulars 
of  the  attack  were  yet  to  be  learned;  and  it  was  M. 
Casimir  whom  the  physician  next  addressed.  "  What 
did  the  driver  who  brought  your  master  home  say  to 
you?" 

"  Oh  !  almost  nothing,  sir ;  not  ten  words." 
"  You  must  find  this  man  and  bring  him  to  me." 
Two  servants  rushed  out  in  search  of  him.    He  could 
not  be  far  away,  for  his  vehicle  was  still  standing  in  the 
courtyard.     They  found  him  in  a  wine-shop  near  by. 
Some  of  the  inquisitive  spectators  who  had  been  dis- 
appointed in  their  curiosity  by  Casimir's  thoughtfulness 
had  treated  him  to  some  liquor,  and  in  exchange  he  had 
told  them  all  he  knew  about  the  affair.     He  had  quite 
recovered  from  his  fright,  and  was  cheerful,  even  gay. 
"  Come  make  haste,  you  are  wanted,"  said  the  ser- 
vants. 

He  emptied  his  glass  and  followed  them  with  very 
bad  grace,  muttering  and  swearing  between  his  set 
teeth.  The  doctor,  strange  to  say,  was  considerate 
enough  to  go  out  into  the  hall  to  question  him ;  but  no 
information  of  value  was  gained  by  the  man's  answers. 
He  declared  that  the  gentleman  had  hired  him  at 
twelve  o'clock,  hoping  by  this  means  to  extort  pay  for 
five  hours'  driving,  which,  joined  to  the  liberal  gratuity 


THE   COUNTS   MILLIONS  15 

he  could  not  fail  to  obtain,  would  remunerate  him  hand- 
somely for  his  day's  work.  Living  is  dear,  it  should 
be  remembered,  and  a  fellow  makes  as  much  as  he  can. 
When  the  cabby  had  gone  off,  still  growling,  al- 
though a  couple  of  louis  had  been  placed  in  his  hand, 
the  doctor  returned  to  his  patient.  He  involuntarily  as- 
sumed his  accustomed  attitude,  with  crossed  arms,  a 
gloomy  expression  of  countenance,  and  his  forehead 
furrowed  as  if  with  thought  and  anxiety.  But  this 
time  he  was  not  acting  a  part.  In  spite,  or  rather  by 
reason  of,  the  full  explanation  that  had  been  given  him, 
he  found  something  suspicious  and  mysterious  in  the 
whole  affair.  A  thousand  vague  and  undefinable  sus- 
picions crossed  his  mind.  Was  he  in  presence  of  a 
crime?  Certainly,  evidently  not.  But  what  was  the 
cause  then  of  the  mystery  and  reticence  he  detected? 
Was  he  upon  the  track  of  some  lamentable  family  secret 
* — one  of  those  terrible  scandals,  concealed  for  a  long 
time,  but  which  at  last  burst  forth  with  startling  effect  ? 
The  prospect  of  being  mixed  up  in  such  an  affair  caused 
him  infinite  pleasure.  It  would  bring  him  into  notice ; 
he  would  be  mentioned  in  the  papers ;  and  his  increased 
practice  would  fill  his  hands  with  gold. 

But  what  could  he  do  to  ingratiate  himself  with  these 
people,  impose  himself  upon  them  if  needs  be?  He 
reflected  for  some  time,  and  finally  what  he  thought  an 
excellent  plan  occurred  to  him.  He  approached  Made- 
moiselle Marguerite,  who  was  weeping  in  an  arm-chair, 
and  touched  her  gently  on  the  shoulder.  She  sprang 
to  her  feet  at  once.  "One  more  question,  mademoi- 
selle," said  he,  imparting  as  much  solemnity  to  his 
tone  as  he  could.  "  Do  you  know  what  liquid  it  was 
that  M.  de  Chalusse  took  this  morning?" 

"  Alas !  no,  monsieur/3 


16  THE   COUNT'S   MILLIONS 

"  It  is  very  important  that  I  should  know.  The  ac- 
curacy of  my  diagnosis  is  dependent  upon  it.  What 
has  become  of  the  vial  ?  " 

"  I  think  M.  de  Chalusse  replaced  it  in  his  escritoire/' 

The  physician  pointed  to  an  article  of  furniture  to 
the  left  of  the  fireplace :  «  There?  "  he  asked. 

<e  Yes,  monsieur." 

He  deliberated,  but  at  last  conquering  his  hesitation, 
he  said :  "  Could  we  not  obtain  this  vial  ?  " 

Mademoiselle  Marguerite  blushed.  "  I  haven't  the 
key,"  she  faltered,  in  evident  embarrassment. 

M.  Casimir  approached :  "  It  must  be  in  the  count's 
pocket,  and  if  mademoiselle  will  allow  me " 

But  she  stepped  back  with  outstretched  arms  as  if  to 
protect  the  escritoire.  "  No,"  she  exclaimed,  "  no — the 
escritoire  shall  not  be  touched.  I  will  not  permit 
it " 

"  But,  mademoiselle,"  insisted  the  doctor,  "  your 
father " 

"  The  Count  de  Chalusse  is  not  my  father !  " 

Dr.  Jodon  was  greatly  disconcerted  by  Mademoiselle 
Marguerite's  vehemence.  "  Ah !  "  said  he,  in  three  dif- 
ferent tones,  "  ah !  ah !  " 

In  less  than  a  second,  a  thousand  strange  and  con- 
tradictory suppositions  darted  through  his  brain.  Who, 
then,  could  this  girl  be,  if  she  were  not  Mademoiselle 
de  Chalusse  ?  What  right  had  she  in  that  house  ?  How 
was  it  that  she  reigned  as  a  sovereign  there?  Above 
all,  why  this  angry  outburst  for  no  other  apparent  cause 
than  a  very  natural  and  exceedingly  insignificant  request 
on  his  part? 

However,  she  had  regained  her  self-possession,  and 
it  was  easy  to  see  by  her  manner  that  she  was  seek- 
ing some  means  of  escape  from  threatened  danger.  At 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  17 

last  she  found  it.  "  Casimir,"  she  said,  authoritatively, 
"search  M.  de  Chalusse's  pocket  for  the  key  of  his 
escritoire/' 

Astonished  by  what  he  regarded  as  a  new  caprice, 
the  valet  obeyed.  He  gathered  up  the  garments  strewn 
over  the  floor,  and  eventually  drew  a  key  from  one  of 
the  waistcoat  pockets.  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  took 
it  from  him,  and  then  in  a  determined  tone,  exclaimed : 
"  A  hammer." 

It  was  brought ;  whereupon,  to  the  profound  amaze- 
ment of  the  physician,  she  knelt  down  beside  the  fire- 
place, laid  the  key  upon  one  of  the  andirons,  and  with 
a  heavy  blow  of  the  hammer,  broke  it  into  fragments. 
"  Now,"  said  she,  quietly,  "  my  mind  will  be  at  rest. 
I  am  certain,"  she  added,  turning  toward  the  servants, 
"  that  M.  de  Chalusse  would  approve  what  I  have 
done.  When  he  recovers,  he  will  have  another  key 
made." 

The  explanation  was  superfluous.  All  the  servants 
understood  the  motive  that  had  influenced  her,  and 
were  saying  to  themselves,  "  Mademoiselle  is  right.  It 
would  not  do  to  touch  the  escritoire  of  a  dying  man. 
Who  knows  but  what  there  are  millions  in  it?  If 
anything  were  missed,  why  any  of  us  might  be  accused. 
But  if  the  key  is  destroyed,  it  will  be  impossible  to  sus- 
pect any  one/' 

However,  the  physician's  conjectures  were  of  an  en- 
tirely different  nature.  "  What  can  there  be  in  that 
escritoire  which  she  desires  to  conceal  ?  "  he  thought. 

But  there  was  no  excuse  for  prolonging  his  visit. 
Once  more  he  examined  the  sick  man,  whose  condition 
remained  unchanged;  and  then,  after  explaining  what 
was  to  be  done  in  his  absence,  he  declared  that  he  must 
leave  at  once,  as  he  had  a  number  of  important  visits 


18  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

to  make;  he  added,  however,  that  he  would  return 
about  midnight. 

"  Madame  Leon  and  I  will  watch  over  M.  de  Cha- 
lusse,"  replied  Mademoiselle  Marguerite ;  "  that  is  suffi- 
cient assurance,  monsieur,  that  your  orders  will  be 
obeyed  to  the  letter.  Only — you  will  not  take  offence, 
I  trust,  if  I  ask  the  count's  regular  physician  to  meet 
you  in  consultation." 

Such  a  proposal  was  anything  but  pleasing  to  M. 
Jodon,  who  had  met  with  the  same  misfortune  in  this 
aristocratic  neighborhood  several  times  before.  When 
an  accident  happened,  he  was  summoned  because  he 
chanced  to  be  close  at  hand,  but  just  as  he  was  flatter- 
ing himself  that  he  had  gained  a  desirable  patient,  he 
found  himself  in  presence  of  some  celebrated  physician, 
who  had  come  from  a  distance  in  his  carriage.  Accus- 
tomed to  such  disappointments,  he  knew  how  to  con- 
ceal his  dissatisfaction. 

"  Were  I  in  your  place,  mademoiselle,  I  should  do 
precisely  what  you  suggest,"  he  answered,  "  and  should 
you  think  it  unnecessary  for  me  to  call,  I " 

"  Oh !  monsieur,  on  the  contrary,  I  shall  certainly  ex- 
pect you." 

"  In  that  case,  very  well."  Thereupon  he  bowed  and 
left  the  room. 

But  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  followed  him  on  to  the 
landing.  "  You  know,  monsieur,"  she  said,  speaking 
rapidly  in  an  undertone,  "that  I  am  not  M.  de  Cha- 
lusse's  daughter.  You  may,  therefore,  tell  me  the 
truth.  Is  his  condition  hopeless  ?  " 

"  Alarming — yes ;  hopeless — no." 

"  But,  monsieur,  this  terrible  unconsciousness " 

"  It  usually  follows  such  an  attack  as  he  has  been 
the  victim  of.  Still  we  may  hope  that  the  paralysis  will 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  19 

gradually  disappear,  and  the  power  of  motion  return 
after  a  time." 

Mademoiselle  Marguerite  was  listening,  pale,  agi- 
tated, and  embarrassed.  It  was  evident  that  she  had  a 
question  on  her  lips  which  she  scarcely  dared  to  ask. 
At  last,  however,  summoning  all  her  courage,  she  ex- 
claimed :  "  And  if  M.  de  Chalusse  should  not  recover, 
will  he  die  without  regaining  consciousness — without 
being  able  to  speak?" 

"  I  am  unable  to  say,  mademoiselle — the  count's  mal- 
ady is  one  of  those  which  set  at  naught  all  the  hypoth- 
eses of  science." 

She  thanked  him  sadly,  sent  a  servant  to  summon 
Madame  Leon,  and  returned  to  the  count's  room. 

As  for  the  doctor,  he  said  to  himself  as  he  went 
downstairs,  "  What  a  strange  girl !  Is  she  afraid  that 
the  count  will  regain  consciousness?  or,  on  the  con- 
trary, does  she  wish  him  to  speak?  Is  there  any  ques- 
tion of  a  will  under  all  this?  What  else  can  it  be? 
What  is  at  stake  ?  "  His  preoccupation  was  so  intense 
that  he  almost  forgot  where  he  was  going,  and  he 
paused  on  every  step.  It  was  not  until  the  fresh  air 
of  the  courtyard  blew  upon  his  face,  reminding  him  of 
the  realities  of  life,  that  the  charlatanesque  element  in 
his  nature  regained  the  ascendency.  "  My  friend,"  he 
said,  addressing  M.  Casimir,  who  was  lighting  him  out, 
"  you  must  at  once  have  some  straw  spread  over  the 
street  so  as  to  deaden  the  sound  of  the  vehicles.  And 
to-morrow,  you  must  inform  the  commissary  of  police." 

Ten  minutes  later  a  thick  bed  of  straw  had  been 
strewed  across  the  thoroughfare,  and  the  drivers  of 
passing  vehicles  involuntarily  slackened  their  speed,  for 
every  one  in  Paris  knows  what  this  signifies.  M.  Casi- 
mir personally  superintended  the  work  which  was  in- 


20  THE   COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

trusted  to  the  grooms,  and  he  was  about  to  return 
indoors  again,  when  a  young  man,  who  had  been  walk- 
ing up  and  down  in  front  of  the  mansion  for  more 
than  an  hour,  hastily  approached  him.  He  was  a  beard- 
less fellow  with  a  strangely  wrinkled  face,  as  leaden- 
tinted  as  that  of  a  confirmed  absinthe-drinker.  His  gen- 
eral expression  was  shrewd,  and  at  the  same  time  im- 
pudent, and  surprising  audacity  gleamed  in  his  eyes. 
"What  do  you  want?"  asked  M.  Casimir. 

The  young  fellow  bowed  humbly,  and  replied,  "  Ah, 
don't  you  recognize  me,  monsieur?  I'm  Toto — excuse 
me — Victor  Chupin,  employed  by  M.  Isidore  Fortunat." 

"  Oh,  yes.     I  recollect/' 

"  I  came,  in  obedience  to  my  employer's  orders,  to 
inquire  if  you  had  obtained  the  information  you  prom- 
ised him;  but  seeing  that  something  had  happened  at 
your  house,  I  didn't  dare  go  in,  but  decided  to  watch 
for  you " 

"And  you  did  quite  right,  my  lad.  I  have  no  in- 
formation to  give  you — ah,  yes !  stop !  The  Marquis 
de  Valorsay  was  closeted  with  the  count  for  two  hours 
yesterday.  But  what  good  will  that  do  ?  The  count  has 
been  taken  suddenly  ill,  and  he  will  scarcely  live  through 
the  night." 

Victor  Chupin  was  thunderstruck.  "  Impossible !  " 
he  cried.  "  Is  it  for  him  that  the  straw  has  been 
strewed  in  the  street?  " 

"  It's  for  him." 

"  What  a  lucky  fellow !  No  one  would  go  to  such 
expense  for  me !  But  I  have  an  idea  that  my  guv'nor 
will  hardly  laugh  when  I  tell  him  this.  Still,  thank  you 
all  the  same,  m'sieur,  and  au  revoir"  He  was  darting 
off  when  a  sudden  thought  detained  him.  "  Excuse 
me,"  said  he,  with  conjuror  like  volubility ;  "  I  was  so 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  21 

horrified  that  I  forgot  business.  Tell  me,  m'sieur,  if 
the  count  dies,  you'll  take  charge  of  the  funeral  ar- 
rangements, won't  you?  Very  well;  a  word  of  advice 
then.  Don't  go  to  the  regular  undertakers,  but  come 
to  me :  here's  my  address  " — proffering  a  card — "  I 
will  treat  with  the  undertakers  for  you,  and  take  charge 
of  everything.  It  will  be  much  better  and  far  cheaper 
for  you,  on  account  of  certain  arrangements  I've  made 
with  these  parties.  Everything,  to  the  very  last  plume, 
is  warranted  to  give  perfect  satisfaction.  Each  item 
will  be  specified  in  the  bill,  and  can  be  verified  during 
the  ceremony,  no  payment  exacted  until  after  delivery. 
Well,  is  it  understood  ?  " 

The  valet  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  Nonsense !  " 
said  he,  carelessly ;  "  what  is  all  that  to  me  ?  " 

"  Ah !  I  forgot  to  mention  that  there  would  be  a 
commission  of  two  hundred  francs  to  divide  between 
us." 

"  That's  consideration.  Give  me  your  card,  and  rely 
on  me.  My  compliments  to  M.  Fortunat,  please."  And 
so  saying,  he  re-entered  the  house. 

Victor  Chupin  drew  a  huge  silver  watch  from  his 
pocket  and  consulted  it.  "  Five  minutes  to  eight,"  he 
growled,  "and  the  guv'nor  expects  me  at  eight  pre- 
cisely. I  shall  have  to  stretch  out  my  legs." 


22  THE    COUNT'S   MILLIONS 


II. 


M.  ISIDORE  FORTUNAT  resided  at  No.  27  Place  de  la 
Bourse,  on  the  third  floor.  He  had  a  handsome  suite 
of  apartments :  a  drawing-room,,  a  dining-room,  a  bed- 
room, a  large  outer  office  where  his  clerks  worked,  and 
a  private  one,  which  was  the  sanctuary  of  his  thoughts 
and  meditations.  The  whole  cost  him  only  six  thou- 
sand francs  a  year,  a  mere  trifle  as  rents  go  nowadays. 
His  lease  entitled  him,  moreover,  to  the  use  of  a  room 
ten  feet  square,  up  under  the  eaves,  where  he  lodged 
his  servant,  Madame  Dodelin,  a  woman  of  forty-six 
or  thereabouts,  who  had  met  with  reverses  of  fortune, 
and  who  now  took  such  good  charge  of  his  establish- 
ment, that  his  table — for  he  ate  at  home — was  truly  fit 
for  a  sybarite. 

Having  been  established  here  for  five  years  or  more, 
M.  Fortunat  was  very  well  known  in  the  neighborhood, 
and,  as  he  paid  his  rent  promptly,  and  met  all  his  obli- 
gations without  demur,  he  was  generally  respected. 
Besides,  people  knew  very  well  from  what  source  M. 
Fortunat  derived  his  income.  He  gave  his  attention  to 
contested  claims,  liquidations,  the  recovery  of  legacies, 
and  so  on,  as  was  shown  by  the  inscription  in  large  let- 
ters which  figured  on  the  elegant  brass  plate  adorning 
his  door.  He  must  have  had  a  prosperous  business,  for 
he  employed  six  collectors  in  addition  to  the  clerks  who 
wrote  all  day  long  in  his  office;  and  his  clients  were 
so  numerous  that  the  concierge  was  often  heard  to 
complain  of  the  way  they  ran  up  and  down  the  stairs, 
declaring  that  it  was  worse  than  a  procession. 

To  be  just,  we  must  add  that  M.  Fortunat's  appear- 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  23 

ance,  manners  and  conduct  were  of  a  nature  to  quiet 
all  suspicions.  He  was  some  thirty-eight  years  of  age, 
extremely  methodical  in  his  habits,  gentle  and  refined 
in  his  manner,  intelligent,  very  good-looking,  and  al- 
ways  dressed  in  perfect  taste.  He  was  accused  of 
being,  in  business  matters,  as  cold,  as  polished,  and  as 
hard  as  one  of  the  marble  slabs  of  the  Morgue;  but 
then,  no  one  was  obliged  to  employ  him  unless  they 
chose  to  do  so.  This  much  is  certain :  he  did  not  fre- 
quent cafes  or  places  of  amusement.  If  he  went  out 
at  all  after  dinner,  it  was  only  to  pass  the  evening  at 
the  house  of  some  rich  client  in  the  neighborhood.  He 
detested  the  smell  of  tobacco,  and  was  inclined  to 
be  devout — never  failing  to  attend  eight  o'clock  mass 
on  Sunday  mornings.  His  housekeeper  suspected 
him  of  matrimonial  designs,  and  perhaps  she  was 
right. 

On  the  evening  that  the  Count  de  Chalusse  was 
struck  with  apoplexy  M.  Isidore  Fortunat  had  been 
dining  alone  and  was  sipping  a  cup  of  tea  when  the 
door-bell  rang,  announcing  the  arrival  of  a  visitor. 
Madame  Dodelin  hastened  to  open  the  door,  and  in 
walked  Victor  Chupin,  breathless  from  his  hurried  walk. 
It  had  not  taken  him  twenty-five  minutes  to  cover  the 
distance  which  separates  the  Rue  de  Courcelles  from 
the  Place  de  la  Bourse. 

"  You  are  late,  Victor,"  said  M.  Fortunat,  quietly. 

"  That's  true,  monsieur,  but  it  isn't  my  fault.  Every- 
thing was  in  confusion  down  there,  and  I  was  obliged 
to  wait— 

"How  is  that?    Why?" 

"  The  Count  de  Chalusse  was  stricken  with  apoplexy 
this  evening,  and  he  is  probably  dead  by  this  time." 

M.  Fortunat  sprang  from  his  chair  with  a  livid  face 


24  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

and  trembling  lips.  "  Stricken  with  apoplexy ! "  he  ex- 
claimed in  a  husky  voice.  "  I  am  ruined !  " 

Then,  fearing  Madame  Dodelin's  curiosity,  he  seized 
the  lamp  and  rushed  into  his  office,  crying  to  Chupin : 
"  Follow  me." 

Chupin  obeyed  without  a  word,  for  he  was  a  shrewd 
fellow,  and  knew  how  to  make  the  best  of  a  trying  sit- 
uation. He  was  not  usually  allowed  to  enter  this  pri- 
vate room,  the  floor  of  which  was  covered  with  a  mag- 
nificent carpet ;  and  so,  after  carefully  closing  the  door, 
he  remained  standing,  hat  in  hand,  and  looking  some- 
what intimidated.  But  M.  Fortunat  seemed  to  have 
forgotten  his  presence.  After  depositing  the  lamp  on 
the  mantel-shelf,  he  walked  several  times  round  and 
round  the  room  like  a  hunted  beast  seeking  for  some 
means  of  egress. 

"If  the  count  is  dead,"  he  muttered,  "  the  Marquis 
de  Valorsay  is  lost !  Farewell  to  the  millions !  " 

The  blow  was  so  cruel,  and  so  entirely  unexpected, 
that  he  could  not,  would  not  believe  in  its  reality.  He 
walked  straight  to  Chupin,  and  caught  him  by  the  col- 
lar, as  if  the  young  fellow  had  been  the  cause  of  this 
misfortune.  "  It  isn't  possible/'  said  he ;  "  the  count 
cannot  be  dead.  You  are  deceiving  me,  or  they  de- 
ceived you.  You  must  have  misunderstood — you  only 
wished  to  give  some  excuse  for  your  delay  perhaps. 
Speak,  say  something  !  " 

As  a  rule,  Chupin  was  not  easily  impressed,  but  he 
felt  almost  frightened  by  his  employer's  agitation.  "  I 
only  repeated  what  M.  Casimir  told  me,  monsieur,"  was 
his  reply. 

He  then  wished  to  furnish  some  particulars,  but  M. 
Fortunat  had  already  resumed  his  furious  tramp  to  and 
fro,  giving  vent  to  his  wrath  and  despair  in  incoherent 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  25 

exclamations.  "  Forty  thousand  francs  lost !  "  he  ex- 
claimed. "  Forty  thousand  francs,  counted  out  there 
on  my  desk!  I  see  them  yet,  counted  and  placed  in  the 
hand  of  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay  in  exchange  for  his 
signature.  My  savings  for  a  number  of  years,  and  I 
have  only  a  worthless  scrap  of  paper  to  show  for  them. 
That  cursed  marquis !  And  he  was  to  come  here  this 
evening,  and  I  was  to  give  him  ten  thousand  francs 
more.  They  are  lying  there  in  that  drawer.  Let  him 
come,  the  wretch,  let  him  come ! " 

Anger  had  positively  brought  foam  to  M.  Fortunat's 
lips,  and  any  one  seeing  him  then  would  subsequently 
have  had  but  little  confidence  in  his  customary  good- 
natured  air  and  unctuous  politeness.  "  And  yet  the 
marquis  is  as  much  to  be  pitied  as  I  am,"  he  continued. 
"  He  loses  as  much,  even  more !  And  such  a  sure  thing 
it  seemed,  too !  What  speculation  can  a  fellow  engage 
in  after  this?  And  a  man  must  put  his  money  some- 
where ;  he  can't  bury  it  in  the  ground ! " 

Chupin  listened  with  an  air  of  profound  commisera- 
tion ;  but  it  was  only  assumed.  He  was  inwardly  jubi- 
lant, for  his  interest  in  the  affair  was  in  direct  opposi- 
tion to  that  of  his  employer.  Indeed,  if  M.  Fortunat 
lost  forty  thousand  francs  by  the  Count  de  Chalusse's 
death,  Chupin  expected  to  make  a  hundred  francs  com- 
mission on  the  funeral. 

"  Still,  he  may  have  made  a  will ! "  pursued  M. 
Fortunat.  "  But  no,  I'm  sure  he  hasn't.  A  poor  devil 
who  has  only  a  few  sous  to  leave  behind  him  always 
takes  this  precaution.  He  thinks  he  may  be  run  over 
by  an  omnibus  and  suddenly  killed,  and  he  always 
writes  and  signs  his  last  wishes.  But  millionaires  don't 
think  of  such  things;  they  believe  themselves  im- 
mortal ! "  He  paused  to  reflect  for  a  moment,  for 


26  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

power  of  reflection  had  returned  to  him.  His  excite- 
ment had  quickly  spent  itself  by  reason  of  its  very 
violence.  "  This  much  is  certain,"  he  resumed,  slowly, 
and  in  a  more  composed  voice,  "  whether  the  count  has 
made  a  will  or  not,  Valorsay  will  lose  the  millions  he 
expected  from  Chalusse.  If  there  is  no  will,  Made- 
moiselle Marguerite  won't  have  a  sou,  and  then,  good 
evening !  If  there  is  one,  this  devil  of  a  girl,  suddenly 
becoming  her  own  mistress,  and  wealthy  into  the  bar- 
gain, will  send  Monsieur  de  Valorsay  about  his  business, 
especially  if  she  loves  another,  as  he  himself  admits — 
and  in  that  case,  again  good  evening ! " 

M.  Fortunat  drew  out  his  handkerchief,  and,  pausing 
in  front  of  the  looking-glass,  wiped  the  perspiration 
from  his  brow,  and  arranged  his  disordered  hair.  He 
was  one  of  those  men  who  may  be  stunned,  but  never 
crushed,  by  a  catastrophe.  "  In  conclusion,"  he  mut- 
tered, "  I  must  enter  my  forty  thousand  francs  as  an 
item  in  the  profit  and  loss  account.  It  only  remains 
to  be  seen  if  it  would  not  be  possible  to  regain  them 
in  the  same  affair."  He  was  again  master  of  himself, 
and  never  had  his  mind  been  more  clear.  He  seated 
himself  at  his  desk,  leant  his  elbows  upon  it,  rested  his 
head  on  his  hands,  and  remained  for  some  time  per- 
fectly motionless ;  but  there  was  triumph  in  his  gesture 
when  he  at  last  looked  up  again. 

"  I  am  safe,"  he  muttered,  so  low  that  Chupin  could 
not  hear  him.  "  What  a  fool  I  was !  If  there  is  no 
will  a  fourth  of  the  millions  shall  be  mine !  Ah,  when 
a  man  knows  his  ground,  he  never  need  lose  the  battle ! 
But  I  must  act  quickly,"  he  added,  "very  quickly." 
And  so  speaking,  he  rose  and  glanced  at  the  clock. 
"  Nine  o'clock,"  said  he.  "  I  must  open  the  campaign 
this  very  evening." 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  27 

Motionless  in  his  dark  corner,  Chupin  still  retained 
his  commiserating  attitude;  but  he  was  so  oppressed 
with  curiosity  that  he  could  scarcely  breathe.  He: 
opened  his  eyes  and  ears  to  the  utmost,  and  watched  his; 
employer's  slightest  movements  with  intense  interest- 
Prompt  to  act  when  he  had  once  decided  upon  his 
course,  M.  Fortunat  now  drew  from  his  desk  a  large 
portfolio,,  crammed  full  of  letters,  receipts,  bills,  deeds 
of  property,  and  old  parchments.  "  I  can  certainly  dis- 
cover the  necessary  pretext  here,"  he  murmured,  rum- 
maging through  the  mass  of  papers.  But  he  did  not  at 
once  find  what  he  sought,  and  he  was  growing  impa- 
tient, as  could  be  seen  by  his  feverish  haste,  when  all 
at  once  he  paused  with  a  sigh  of  relief.  "  At  last !  " 

He  held  in  his  hand  a  soiled  and  crumpled  note  of 
hand,  affixed  by  a  pin  to  a  huissier's  protest,  thus  prov- 
ing conclusively  that  it  had  been  dishonored.  M. 
Fortunat  waved  these  strips  of  paper  triumphantly, 
and  with  a  satisfied  air  exclaimed :  "  It  is  here  that  I 
must  strike;  it  is  here — if  Casimir  hasn't  deceived  me 
— that  I  shall  find  the  indispensable  information  I 
need." 

He  was  in  such  haste  that  he  did  not  wait  to  put  his 
portfolio  in  order.  He  threw  it  with  the  papers  it  had 
contained  into  the  drawer  of  his  desk  again,  and,  ap- 
proaching Chupin,  he  asked,  "  It  was  you,  was  it  not,, 
Victor,  who  obtained  that  information  respecting  the 
solvency  of  the  Vantrassons,  husband  and  wife,  who  let 
out  furnished  rooms?" 

"  Yes,  monsieur,  and  I  gave  you  the  answer :  nothing 
to  hope  for " 

"  I  know ;  but  that  doesn't  matter.  Do  you  remem- 
ber their  address  ?  " 

"  Perfectly.     They  are  now  living  on  the  Asnieres 


28  THE   COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

Road,  beyond  the  fortifications,  on  the  right  hand  side." 

"What  is  the  number?" 

Chupin  hesitated,  reflected  for  a  moment,  and  then 
began  to  scratch  his  head  furiously,  as  he  was  in  the 
habit  of  doing  whenever  his  memory  failed  him  and  he 
wished  to  recall  it  to  duty.  "  I'm  not  sure  whether  the 
number  is  eighteen  or  forty-six,"  he  said,  at  last ;  "  that 

"  Never  mind,"  interrupted  M.  Fortunat.  "  If  I  sent 
you  to  the  house  could  you  find  it  ?  " 

"  Oh — yes,  m'sieur — at  once — with  my  eyes  shut.  I 
can  see  the  place  perfectly — a  rickety  old  barrack. 
There  is  a  tract  of  unoccupied  land  on  one  side,  and 
a  kitchen-garden  in  the  rear." 

"  Very  well ;  you  shall  accompany  me  there." 

Chupin  seemed  astonished  by  this  strange  proposal. 
"  What,  m'sieur,"  said  he,  "  do  you  think  of  going  there 
at  this  time  of  night?" 

"  Why  not?  Shall  we  find  the  establishment  closed?" 

"  No ;  certainly  not.  Vantrasson  doesn't  merely  keep 
furnished  rooms;  he's  a  grocer,  and  sells  liquor  too. 
His  place  is  open  until  eleven  o'clock  at  least.  But  if 
you  are  going  there  to  present  a  bill,  it's  perhaps  a  little 
late.  If  I  were  in  your  place,  m'sieur,  I  should  wait  till 
to-morrow.  It's  raining,  and  the  streets  are  deserted. 
It's  an  out-of-the-way  place  too;  and  in  such  cases,  a 
man  has  been  known  to  settle  his  account  with  what- 
ever came  handiest — with  a  cudgel,  or  a  bullet,  for 
instance." 

"  Are  you  afraid  ?  " 

This  question  seemed  so  utterly  absurd  to  Chupin 
that  he  was  not  in  the  least  offended  by  it;  his  only 
answer  was  a  disdainful  shrug  of  the  shoulders. 

"  Then  we  will  go,"  remarked  M.  Fortunat.   "  While 


THE   COUNT'S    MILLIONS  29 

I'm  getting  ready,  go  and  hire  a  cab,  and  see  that  you 
get  a  good  horse." 

Chupin  was  off  in  an  instant,  tearing  down  the  stair- 
case like  a  tempest.  There  was  a  cab-stand  only  a  few 
steps  from  the  house,  but  he  preferred  to  run  to  the 
jobmaster's  stables  in  the  Rue  Feydeau. 

"Cab,  sir!"  shouted  several  men,  as  they  saw  him 
approaching. 

He  made  no  reply,  but  began  to  examine  the  horses 
with  the  air  of  a  connoisseur,  until  at  last  he  found  an 
animal  that  suited  him.  Thereupon  he  beckoned  to  the 
driver,  and  going  to  the  little  office  where  a  woman  sat 
reading :  "  My  five  sous,  if  you  please,"  he  said,  author- 
itatively. 

The  woman  looked  at  him.  Most  jobmasters  are  in 
the  habit  of  giving  five  sous  to  any  servant  who  comes 
in  search  of  a  cab  for  his  master ;  and  this  was  the  cus- 
tom here.  But  the  keeper  of  the  office,  who  felt  sure 
that  Chupin  was  not  a  servant,  hesitated;  and  this 
made  the  young  fellow  angry.  "  Make  haste,"  he  cried, 
imperiously.  "If  you  don't,  I  shall  run  to  the  nearest 
stand." 

The  woman  at  once  threw  him  five  sous,  which  he 
pocketed  with  a  satisfied  grin.  They  were  his — right- 
fully his — since  he  had  taken  the  trouble  to  gain  them. 
He  then  hastily  returned  to  the  office  to  inform  his  em- 
ployer that  the  cab  was  waiting  at  the  door,  and  found 
himself  face  to  face  with  a  sight  which  made  him  open 
his  eyes  to  their  widest  extent. 

M.  Fortunat  had  profited  by  his  clerk's  absence,  not 
to  disguise  himself — that  would  be  saying  too  much — 
but  to  make  some  changes  in  his  appearance.  He  had 
arrayed  himself  in  a  long  overcoat,  shiny  with  grease 
and  wear,  and  falling  below  his  knees;  in  place  of  his 


30  THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS 

elegant  satin  cravat  he  had  knotted  a  gaudy  silk  necker- 
chief about  his  throat;  his  boots  were  worn,  and  out 
of  shape;  and  his  hat  would  have  been  treated  with 
contempt  even  by  a  dealer  in  old  clothes.  Of  the  pros- 
perous Fortunat,  so  favorably  known  round  about  the 
Place  de  la  Bourse,  naught  remained  save  his  face  and 
his  hands.  Another  Fortunat  had  taken  his  place,  more 
than  needy  in  aspect — wretched,  famished,  gaunt  with 
hunger,  ready  for  any  desperate  deed.  And,  yet,  he 
seemed  at  ease  in  this  garb;  it  yielded  to  his  every 
movement,  as  if  he  had  worn  it  for  a  long  time.  The 
butterfly  had  become  a  chrysalis  again.  Chupin's  ad- 
miring smile  must  have  repaid  him  for  his  trouble. 
Since  the  young  clerk  evinced  approval,  M.  Fortunat 
felt  sure  that  Vantrasson  would  take  him  for  what  he 
wished  to  appear — a  poor  devil  of  an  agent,  who  was 
acting  on  some  other  person's  behalf.  "  Let  us  start 
at  once/'  said  he. 

But  just  as  he  was  leaving  the  ante-room,  he  remem- 
bered an  order  of  great  importance  which  he  wished  to 
give.  He  called  Madame  Dodelin,  and  without  paying 
the  slightest  heed  to  her  astonishment  at  seeing  him 
thus  attired :  "  If  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay  comes,  in 
my  absence,"  said  he — "  and  he  will  come — ask  him  to 
wait  for  me.  I  shall  return  before  midnight.  Don't  take 
"him  into  my  office — he  can  wait  in  the  drawing-room." 

This  last  order  was  certainly  unnecessary,  since  M. 
Fortunat  had  closed  and  double-locked  his  office  door, 
and  placed  the  key  carefully  in  his  own  pocket.  But 
perhaps  he  had  forgotten  this  circumstance.  There 
were  now  no  traces  of  his  recent  anger  and  disappoint- 
ment. He  was  in  excellent  humor;  and  you  might 
have  supposed  that  he  was  starting  on  an  enterprise  from 
which  he  expected  to  derive  both  pleasure  and  profit. 


THE   COUNTS   MILLIONS  31 

Chupin  was  climbing  to  a  place  on  the  box  beside 
the  driver  when  his  employer  bade  him  take  a  seat 
inside  the  vehicle.  They  were  not  long  in  reaching 
their  destination,  for  the  horse  was  really  a  good  one, 
and  the  driver  had  been  stimulated  by  the  promise  of 
a  magnificent  gratuity.  In  fact,  M.  Fortunat  and  his 
companion  reached  the  Asnieres  Road  in  less  than 
forty  minutes. 

In  obedience  to  the  orders  he  had  received  before 
starting,  the  cabman  drew  up  on  the  right  hand  side 
of  the  road,  at  about  a  hundred  paces  from  the  city 
gate,  beyond  the  fortifications.  "Well,  sir,  here  you 
are !  Are  you  satisfied  ?  "  he  inquired,  as  he  opened  the 
door. 

"Perfectly  satisfied/'  replied  M.  Fortunat.  "Here 
is  your  promised  gratuity.  Now,  you  have  only  to  wait 
for  us.  Don't  stir  from  this  place.  Do  you  under- 
stand?" 

But  the  driver  shook  his  head.  "  Excuse  me,"  he 
said,  "but  if  it's  all  the  same  to  you,  I  will  station 
myself  over  there  near  the  gate.  Here,  you  see,  I 
should  be  afraid  to  go  to  sleep,  while  over  there " 

"  Very  well ;  suit  yourself,"  M.  Fortunat  replied. 

This  precaution  on  the  driver's  part  convinced  him 
that  Chupin  had  not  exaggerated  the  evil  reputation 
of  this  quarter  of  the  Parisian  suburbs.  And,  indeed, 
there  was  little  of  a  reassuring  character  in  the  aspect 
of  this  broad  road,  quite  deserted  at  this  hour,  and 
shrouded  in  the  darkness  of  a  tempestuous  night.  The 
rain  had  ceased  falling,  but  the  wind  blew  with  in- 
creased violence,,  twisting  the  branches  off  the  trees, 
tearing  slates  from  the  roofs,  and  shaking  the  street- 
lamps  so  furiously  as  to  extinguish  the  gas.  They 
could  not  see  a  step  before  them;  the  mud  was  ankle- 


32  THE   COUNT'S   MILLIONS 

deep,  and  not  a  person,  not  a  solitary  soul  was 
visible. 

"Are  we  almost  there?"  M.  Fortunat  asked  every 
ten  paces. 

"  Almost  there,  m'sieur." 

Chupin  said  this;  but  to  tell  the  truth,  he  knew 
nothing  about  it.  He  tried  to  discover  where  he  was, 
but  did  not  succeed.  Houses  were  becoming  scanty, 
and  vacant  plots  of  building  ground  more  numerous;  it 
was  only  with  the  greatest  difficulty  that  one  could 
occasionally  discern  a  light.  At  last,  however,  after  a 
quarter  of  an  hour's  hard  struggling,  Chupin  uttered  a 
joyful  cry.  "  Here  we  are,  m'sieur — look !  "  said  he. 

A  large  building,  five  stories  high,  sinister  of  aspect, 
and  standing  quite  alone,  could  just  be  distinguished 
in  the  darkness.  It  was  already  falling  to  pieces,  and 
yet  it  was  not  entirely  completed.  Plainly  enough,  the 
speculator  who  had  undertaken  the  enterprise  had  not 
been  rich  enough  to  compkte  it.  On  seeing  the  many 
closely  pierced  windows  of  the  fagade,  a  passer-by  could 
not  fail  to  divine  for  what  purpose  the  building  had 
been  erected;  and  in  order  that  no  one  should  remain 
in  ignorance  of  it,  this  inscription :  "Furnished  Rooms," 
figured  in  letters  three  feet  high,  between  the  third  and 
fourth  floors.  The  inside  arrangements  could  be  easily 
divined :  innumerable  rooms,  all  small  and  inconvenient, 
and  let  out  at  exorbitant  rentals. 

However,  Victor  Chupin's  memory  had  misled  him. 
This  establishment  was  not  on  the  right,  but  on  the 
left-hand  side  of  the  road,  a  perfect  mire  through 
which  M.  Fortunat  and  his  companion  were  obliged  to 
cross.  Their  eyes  having  become  accustomed  to  the 
darkness,  they  could  discern  sundry  details  as  they  apj 
preached  the  building.  The  ground  floor  comprised 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  33 

two  shops,  one  of  which  was  closed,  but  the  other  was 
still  open,  and  a  faint  light  gleamed  through  the  soiled 
red  curtains.  Over  the  frontage  appeared  the  shop- 
keeper's name,  Vantrasson,  while  on  either  side,  in 
smaller  letters,  were  the  words :  "  Groceries  and  Pro- 
visions— Foreign  and  French  Wines/'  Everything 
about  this  den  denoted  abject  poverty  and  low  de- 
bauchery. 

M.  Fortunat  certainly  did  not  recoil,  but  before  en- 
tering the  shop  he  was  not  sorry  to  have  an  opportunity 
to  reconnoitre.  He  approached  cautiously,  and  peered 
through  the  window  at  a  place  where  a  rent  in  the  cur- 
tain allowed  him  some  view  of  the  interior.  Behind 
the  counter  a  woman  who  looked  some  fifty  years  of 
age  was  seated,  mending  a  soiled  dress  by  the  light  of 
a  smoking  lamp.  She  was  short  and  very  stout.  She 
seemed  literally  weighed  down,  and  puffed  out  by  an 
unwholesome  and  unnatural  mass  of  superfluous  flesh; 
and  she  was  as  white  as  if  her  veins  had  been  filled 
with  water,  instead  of  blood.  Her  hanging  cheeks,  her 
receding  forehead,  and  her  thin  lips,  imparted  an  alarm- 
ing expression  of  wickedness  and  cunning  to  her 
countenance.  At  the  farther  end  of  the  store  For- 
tunat could  vaguely  discern  the  figure  of  a  man  seated 
on  a  stool.  He  seemed  to  be  asleep,  for  his  crossed 
arms  rested  on  a  table,  with  his  head  leaning  on  them. 

"  Good  luck ! "  whispered  Chupin  in  his  employer's 
ear ;  "  there  is  not  a  customer  in  the  place.  Vantrasson 
and  his  wife  are  alone."  This  circumstance  was  by  no 
means  displeasing  to  M.  Fortunat,  as  could  be  seen  by 
his  expression  of  face.  "  So,  m'sieur,"  continued  Chu- 
pin, "you  need  have  no  fears.  I'll  remain  here  and 
watch,  while  you  go  in." 

M.  Fortunat  did  so.    On  hearing  the  door  open  and 


34  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

shut,  the  woman  laid  down  her  work.     "What  can  I 
do  for  monsieur  ?  "  she  asked,  in  a  wheedling  voice. 

M.  Fortunat  did  not  reply  at  once;  but  he  drew  the 
note  with  which  he  had  provided  himself  from  his 
pocket,  and  displayed  it.  "  I  am  a  huissier's  clerk," 
he  then  exclaimed ;  "  and  I  called  in  reference  to  this 
little  matter — a  note  of  hand  for  five  hundred  and 
eighty-three  francs,  value  received  in  goods,  signed 
Vantrasson,  and  made  payable  to  the  order  of  a  person 
named  Barutin." 

"  An  execution ! "  said  the  woman,  whose  voice  sud- 
denly soured.  "  Vantrasson,  wake  up,  and  come  and 
see  about  this." 

This  summons  was  unnecessary.  On  hearing  the 
words  "note  of  hand,"  the  man  had  lifted  his  head; 
and  at  the  name  of  Barutin,  he  rose  and  approached 
with  a  heavy,  uncertain  step,  as  if  he  had  not  yet  slept 
off  his  intoxication.  He  was  younger  than  his  wife, 
tall,  with  a  well-proportioned  and  athletic  form.  His 
features  were  regular,  but  the  abuse  of  alcohol  and 
all  sorts  of  excesses  had  greatly  marred  them,  and  their 
present  expression  was  one  of  ferocious  brutishness. 
"  What's  that  you  are  talking  about  ?  "  he  asked  in  .a 
harsh,  grating  voice.  "  Is  it  to  mock  people  that  you 
come  and  ask  for  money  on  the  15th  of  October — rent 
day?  Where  have  you  seen  any  money  left  after  the 
landlord  has  made  his  round?  Besides,  what  is  this 
bill  ?  Give  it  me  to  look  at." 

M.  Fortunat  was  not  guilty  of  such  folly;  he  did^not 
intrust  the  paper  to  Vantrasson's  hand,  but  held  it  a 
little  distance  from  him,  and  then  read  it  aloud. 

When  he  had  finished :  "  That  note  fell  due  eighteen 
months  ago,"  declared  Vantrasson.  "  It  is  worth 
nothing  now " 


"WHAT  is  THIS  BILL?    GIVE  IT  ME  TO  LOOK  AT" 


THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS  35 

"You  are  mistaken — a  note  of  this  kind  is  of  value 
any  time  within  five  years  after  the  day  it  goes  to 
protest/' 

-'  Possibly ;  but  as  Barutin  has  failed,  and  gone  no 
one  knows  where,  I  am  released " 

"  Another  mistake  on  your  part.  You  owe  these  five 
hundred  and  eighty-three  francs  to  the  person  who 
bought  this  note  at  Barutin's  sale,  and  who  has  given 
my  employer  orders  to  prosecute " 

The  blood  had  risen  to  Vantrasson's  face.  "And 
what  of  that?  Do  you  suppose  Pve  never  been  sued 
for  debts  before?  Even  the  king  can't  take  anything 
from  a  person  who  possesses  nothing;  and  I  own 
nothing.  My  furniture  is  all  pawned  or  mortgaged,  and 
my  stock  is  not  worth  a  hundred  francs.  When  your 
employer  finds  it  useless  to  waste  money  in  worrying  me, 
he'll  let  me  alone.  You  can't  injure  a  man  like  me." 

"  Do  you  really  think  so  ?  " 

"  I'm  sure  of  it." 

"  Unfortunately  you  are  again  mistaken,  for  al- 
though the  holder  of  the  note  doesn't  care  so  very 
much  about  obtaining  his  dues,  he'll  spend  his  own 
money  like  water  to  make  trouble  for  you."  And 
thereupon  M.  Fortunat  began  to  draw  a  vivid  and 
frightful  picture  of  a  poor  debtor  pursued  by  a  rich 
creditor  who  harassed  him,  and  tortured  him,  and 
hounded  him  everywhere,  until  not  even  a  change  of 
clothing  was  left  him. 

Vantrasson  rolled  his  eyes  and  brandished  his  for- 
midable fist  in  the  most  defiant  manner;  but  his  wife 
was  evidently  much  alarmed.  At  last  she  could  bear 
it  no  longer,  and  rising  hastily  she  led  her  husband  to 
the  rear  of  the  shop,  saying :  "  Come,  I  must  speak 
with  you." 


36  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

lie  followed  her,  and  they  remained  for  some  little 
time  conversing  together  in  a  low  tone,  but  with  excited 
gestures.  When  they  returned,  the  woman  opened  the 
conversation.  "  Alas !  sir/'  she  said  to  M.  Fortunat, 
"  we  have  no  money  just  now ;  business  is  so  very 
bad,  and  if  you  prosecute  us,  we  are  lost.  What  can 
be  done?  You  look  like  an  honest  man;  give  us  your 
advice." 

M.  Fortunat  did  not  reply  at  once ;  he  was  apparently 
absorbed  in  thought,  but  suddenly  he  exclaimed :  "  One 
owes  a  duty  to  unfortunate  folks,  and  I'm  going  to  tell 
you  the  exact  truth.  My  employer,  who  isn't  a  bad 
man  at  heart,  hasn't  the  slightest  desire  for  revenge. 
He  said  to  me :  '  Go  and  see  these  Vantrassons,  and  if 
they  seem  to  be  worthy  people,  propose  a  compromise. 
If  they  choose  to  accept  it,  I  shall  be  quite  satisfied.' " 

"  And  what  is  this  compromise  ?  " 

"  It  is  this :  you  must  write  an  acknowledgment  of 
the  debt  on  a  sheet  of  stamped  paper,  together  with  a 
promise  to  pay  a  little  on  account  each  month.  In 
exchange  I  will  give  you  this  note  of  hand." 

The  husband  and  wife  exchanged  glances,  and  it  was 
the  woman  who  said :  "  We  accept." 

But  to  carry  out  this  arrangement  it  was  necessary 
to  have  a  sheet  of  stamped  paper,  and  the  spurious 
clerk  had  neglected  to  provide  himself  with  some.  This 
circumstance  seemed  to  annoy  him  greatly,  and  you 
might  almost  have  sworn  that  he  regretted  the  conces- 
sion he  had  promised.  Did  he  think  of  going?  Madame 
Vantrasson  feared  so,  and  turning  eagerly  to  her  hus- 
band, she  exclaimed:  "Run  to  the  tobacco  shop  in  the 
Rue  de  Levis ;  you  will  find  some  paper  there !  " 

He  started  off  at  once,  and  M.  Fortunat  breathed 
freely  again.  He  had  certainly  retained  his  composure 


THE   COUNTS    MILLIONS  37 

admirably  during  the  interview,  but  more  than  once  he 
had  fancied  that  Vantrasson  was  about  to  spring  on 
him,  crush  him  with  his  brawny  hands,  tear  the  note 
from  him,  burn  it,  and  then  throw  him,  Fortunat,  out 
into  the  street,  helpless  and  nearly  dead.  But  now  that 
danger  had  passed  and  Madame  Vantrasson,  fearing  he 
might  tire  of  waiting,  was  prodigal  in  her  attentions. 
She  brought  him  the  only  unbroken  chair  in  the  estab- 
lishment, and  insisted  that  he  should  partake  of  some 
refreshment — a  glass  of  wine  at  the  very  least.  While 
rummaging  among  the  bottles,  she  alternately  thanked 
him  and  complained,  declaring  she  had  a  right  to  re- 
pine, since  she  had  known  better  days — but  fate  had 
been  against  her  ever  since  her  marriage,  though  she 
had  little  thought  she  would  end  her  days  in  such 
misery,  after  having  been  so  happy  in  the  Count  de 
Chalusse's  household  many  years  before. 

To  all  appearance,  M.  Fortunat  listened  with  the 
mere  superficial  interest  which  ordinary  politeness  re- 
quires one  to  show,  but  in  reality  his  heart  was  filled 
with  intense  delight.  Coming  here  without  any  clearly- 
defined  plan,  circumstances  had  served  him  a  thousand 
times  better  than  he  could  reasonably  have  hoped.  He 
had  preserved  his  power  over  the  Vantrassons,  had 
won  their  confidence,  had  succeeded  in  obtaining  a 
tete-a-tete  with  the  wife,  and  to  crown  all,  this  woman 
alluded,  of  her  own  accord,  to  the  very  subject  upon 
which  he  was  longing  to  question  her. 

"Ah!  if  I  were  only  back  in  the  Count's  household 
again/'  she  exclaimed.  "  Six  hundred  francs  a  year, 
and  gifts  worth  double  that  amount.  Those  were  good 
times  for  me.  But  you  know  how  it  is — one  is  never 
content  with  one's  lot,  and  then  the  heart  is  weak " 

She  had  not  succeeded  in  finding  the  sweet  wine 


38  THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS 

which  she  proposed  to  her  guest;  so  in  its  place  she 
substituted  a  mixture  of  ratafia  and  brandy  in  two  large 
glasses  which  she  placed  upon  the  counter.  "  One 
evening,  to  my  sorrow,"  she  resumed,  "  I  met  Van- 
trasson  at  a  ball.  It  was  the  13th  day  of  the  month. 
I  might  have  known  no  good  would  come  of  it.  Ah, 
you  should  have  seen  him  at  that  time,  in  full  uniform. 
He  belonged  to  the  Paris  Guards  then.  All  the  women 
were  crazy  about  soldiers,  and  my  head  was  turned, 

too Her  tone,  her  gestures,  and  the  compression 

of  her  thin  lips,  revealed  the  bitterness  of  her  disap- 
pointment and  her  unavailing  regret.  "  Ah,  these  hand- 
some men ! "  she  continued ;  "  don't  talk  to  me  about 
them !  This  one  had  heard  of  my  savings.  I  had  nine- 
teen thousand  francs,  so  he  begged  me  to  marry  him, 
and  I  was  fool  enough  to  consent.  Yes,  fool — for  I 
was  forty,  and  he  was  only  thirty.  I  might  have  known 
it  was  my  money  that  he  wanted,  and  not  me.  How- 
ever, I  gave  up  my  situation,  and  even  purchased  a 
substitute  for  him,  in  order  that  I  might  have  him  all 
to  myself.* 

She  had  gradually  warmed  with  her  theme,  as  she 
described  her  confidence  and  blind  credulity,  and  then, 
with  a  tragic  gesture,  as  if  she  desired  to  drive  away 
these  cruel  memories,  she  suddenly  seized  her  glass  and 
emptied  it  at  a  draught. 

Chupin,  who  was  still  at  his  post  outside,  experienced 
a  thrill  of  envy,  and  involuntarily  licked  his  lips.  "  A 
mixed  ratafia,"  he  said,  longingly.  "  I  shouldn't  object 
to  one  myself." 

However,  this  choice  compound  seemed  to  inspire 
Madame  Vantrasson  with  renewed  energy,  for,  with 
still  greater  earnestness,  she  resumed :  "  At  first,  all 
went  well.  We  employed  my  savings  in  purchasing  the 


THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS  39 

Hotel  des  Espagnes,  in  the  Rue  Notre  Dame  des  Vic- 
toires,  and  business  prospered;  there  was  never  a 
vacant  room.  But  any  person  who  has  drank,  sir,  will 
drink  again.  Vantrasson  kept  sober  for  a  few  months, 
but  gradually  he  fell  into  his  old  habits.  He  was  in 
such  a  condition  most  of  the  time  that  he  was  scarcely 
able  to  ask  for  food.  And  if  that  had  been  all !  But, 
unfortunately,  he  was  too  handsome  a  man  to  be  a  good 
husband.  One  night  he  didn't  come  home,  and  the 
next  day,  when  I  ventured  to  reproach  him — very  gent- 
ly, I  assure  you — he  answered  me  with  an  oath  and  a 
blow.  All  our  happiness  was  over !  Monsieur  declared 
that  he  was  master,  and  would  do  as  he  liked.  He 
drank  and  carried  away  all  the  wine  from  the  cellar — 
he  took  all  the  money — he  remained  away  for  weeks 
together ;  and  if  I  complained — more  blows  !  " 

Her  voice  trembled,  and  a  tear  gathered  in  her  eye; 
but,  wiping  it  away  with  the  back  of  her  hand,  she 
resumed :  "  Vantrasson  was  always  drunk,  and  I  spent 
my  time  in  crying  my  very  eyes  out.  Business  became 
very  bad,  and  soon  everybody  left  the  house.  We  were 
obliged  to  sell  it.  We  did  so,  and  bought  a  small  cafe. 
But  by  the  end  of  the  year  we  lost  that.  Fortunately, 
I  still  had  a  little  money  left,  and  so  I  bought  a  stock 
of  groceries  in  my  own  name;  but  in  less  than  six 
months  the  stock  was  eaten  up,  and  we  were  cast  into 
the  street.  What  was  to  be  done?  Vantrasson  drank 
worse  than  ever;  he  demanded  money  when  he  knew 
that  I  had  none  to  give  him,  and  he  treated  me  even 
more  cruelly  than  before.  I  lost  courage — and  yet  one 
must  live!  Oh,  you  wouldn't  believe  it  if  I  told  you 
how  we  have  lived  for  the  past  four  years."  She  did 
not  tell  him,  but  contented  herself  with  adding,  "  When 
you  begin  to  go  down  hill,  there  is  no  such  thing  as 


40  THE    COUNTS   MILLIONS 

stopping;  you  roll  lower  and  lower,  until  you  reach 
the  bottom,  as  we  have  done.  Here  we  live,  no  one 
knows  how ;  we  have  to  pay  our  rent  each  week,  and  if 
we  are  driven  from  this  place,  I  see  no  refuge  but  the 
river." 

"  If  I  had  been  in  your  position,  I  should  have  left 
my  husband,"  M.  Fortunat  ventured  to  remark. 

"  Yes — it  would  have  been  better,  no  doubt.  Peo- 
ple advised  me  to  do  so,  and  I  tried.  Three  or  four 
times  I  went  away,  and  yet  I  always  returned — it  was 
stronger  than  myself.  Besides,  I'm  his  wife ;  I've  paid 
dearly  for  him ;  he's  mine — I  won't  yield  him  to  any  one 
else.  He  beats  me,  no  doubt;  I  despise  him,  I  hate 

him,  and  yet  I "  She  poured  out  part  of  a  glass 

of  brandy,  and  swallowed  it;  then,  with  a  gesture  of 
rage,  she  added :  "I  can't  give  him  up !  It's  fate !  As  it  is 
now,  it  will  be  until  the  end,  until  he  starves,  or  I " 

M.  Fortunat's  countenance  wore  an  expression  of 
profound  commiseration.  A  looker-on  would  have  sup- 
posed him  interested  and  sympathetic  to  the  last  de- 
gree; but  in  reality,  he  was  furious.  Time  was  pass- 
ing, and  the  conversation  was  wandering  farther  and 
farther  from  the  object  of  his  visit.  "  I  am  surprised, 
madame,"  said  he,  "that  you  never  applied  to  your 
former  employer,  the  Count  de  Chalusse." 

"  Alas !  I  did  apply  to  him  for  assistance  several 
times " 

"With  what  result?" 

"  The  first  time  I  went  to  him  he  received  me ;  I  told 
him  my  troubles,  and  he  gave  me  bank-notes  to  the 
amount  of  five  thousand  francs." 

M.  Fortunat  raised  his  hands  to  the  ceiling.  "  Five 
thousand  francs ! "  he  repeated,  in  a  tone  of  astonish- 
ment ;  "  this  count  must  be  very  rich " 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  41 

"  So  rich,  monsieur,  that  he  doesn't  know  how  much 
he's  worth.  He  owns,  nobody  knows  how  many  houses 
in  Paris,  chateaux  in  every  part  of  the  country,  entire 
villages,  forests — his  gold  comes  in  by  the  shovelful." 

The  spurious  clerk  closed  his  eyes,  as  if  he  were  daz- 
zled by  this  vision  of  wealth. 

"  The  second  time  I  went  to  the  count's  house,"  re- 
sumed Madame  Vantrasson,  "  I  didn't  see  him,  but  he 
sent  me  a  thousand  francs.  The  third  and  last  time 
they  gave  me  twenty  francs  at  the  door,  and  told  me 
that  the  count  had  gone  on  a  journey.  I  understood 
that  I  could  hope  for  no  further  help  from  him.  Be- 
sides, all  the  servants  had  been  changed.  One  morn- 
ing, without  any  apparent  reason,  M.  de  Chalusse  dis- 
missed all  the  old  servants,  so  they  told  me.  He  even 
sent  away  the  concierge  and  the  housekeeper." 

"Why  didn't  you  apply  to  his  wife?" 

"  M.  de  Chalusse  isn't  married.  He  never  has  been 
married." 

From  the  expression  of  solicitude  upon  her  guest's 
features,  Madame  Vantrasson  supposed  he  was  rack- 
ing his  brain  to  discover  some  mode  of  escape  from 
her  present  difficulties.  "  If  I  were  in  your  place," 
he  said,  "  I  should  try  to  interest  his  relatives  and 
family  in  my  case — 

"  The  count  has  no  relatives." 

"  Impossible !  " 

"  He  hasn't,  indeed.  During  the  ten  years  I  was  in 
his  service,  I  heard  him  say  more  than  a  dozen  times 
that  he  alone  was  left  of  all  his  family — that  all  the 
others  were  dead.  People  pretend  that  this  is  the  rea- 
son why  he  is  so  immensely  rich." 

M.  Fortunat's  interest  was  no  longer  assumed;  he 
was  rapidly  approaching  the  real  object  of  his  visit. 


42  THE   COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

"  No  relatives  !  "  he  muttered.  "  Who,  then,  will  in- 
herit his  millions  when  he  dies?" 

Madame  Vantrasson  jerked  her  head.  "  Who  can 
say  ?  "  she  replied.  "  Everything  will  go  to  the  gov- 
ernment, probably,  unless But  no,  that's  impos- 
sible/' 

"What's   impossible?" 

"  Nothing.  I  was  thinking  of  the  count's  sister, 
Mademoiselle  Hermine/' 

"  His  sister !  Why,  you  said  just  now  that  he  had 
no  relatives." 

"  It's  the  same  as  if  he  hadn't ;  no  one  knows  what 
has  become  of  her,  poor  creature !  Some  say  that  she 
married;  others  declare  that  she  died.  It's  quite  a 
romance." 

M.  Isidore  Fortunat  was  literally  upon  the  rack;  and 
to  make  his  sufferings  still  more  horrible,  he  dared  not 
ask  any  direct  question,  nor  allow  his  curiosity  to  be- 
come manifest,  for  fear  of  alarming  the  woman.  "  Let 
me  see,"  said  he ;  "I  think — I  am  sure  that  I  have 
heard — or  that  I  have  read — I  cannot  say  which — some 
story  about  a  Mademoiselle  de  Chalusse.  It  was  some- 
thing terrible,  wasn't  it  ?  " 

"  Terrible,  indeed.  But  what  I  was  speaking  of 
happened  a  long  time  ago— twenty-five  or  twenty-six 
years  ago,  at  the  very  least.  I  was  still  in  my  own  part 
of  the  country — at  Besangon.  No  one  knows  the  exact 
truth  about  the  affair." 

"  What !  not  even  you  ?  " 

"  Oh !  I — that's  an  entirely  different  thing.  When 
I  entered  the  count's  service,  six  years  later,  there  was 
still  an  old  gardener  who  knew  the  whole  story,  and 
who  told  it  to  me,  making  me  swear  that  I  would  never 
betray  his  confidence." 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  43 

Lavish  of  details  as  she  had  been  in  telling  her  own 
story,,  it  was  evident  that  she  was  determined  to  exer- 
cise a  prudent  reserve  in  everything  connected  with  the 
De  Chalusse  family;  and  M.  Fortunat  inwardly  cursed 
this,  to  him,  most  unseasonable  discretion.  But  he  was 
experienced  in  these  examinations,  and  he  had  at  his 
command  little  tricks  for  loosening  tongues.,  which  even 
an  investigating  magistrate  might  have  envied.  With- 
out seeming  to  attach  the  slightest  importance  to 
Madame  Vantrasson's  narrative,  he  rose  with  a  startled 
air,  like  a  man  who  suddenly  realizes  that  he  has  for- 
gotten himself.  "  Zounds  !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  we  sit 
here  gossiping,  and  it's  growing  late.  I  really  can't 
wait  for  your  husband.  If  I  remain  here  any  longer,  I 
shall  miss  the  last  omnibus ;  and  I  live  on  the  other  side 
of  the  river,  near  the  Luxembourg." 

"But  our  agreement,  monsieur?" 

"  We  will  draw  that  up  at  some  future  time.  I  shall 
be  passing  again,  or  I  will  send  one  of  my  colleagues 
to  see  you." 

It  was  Madame  Vantrasson's  turn  to  tremble  now. 
She  feared,  if  she  allowed  this  supposed  clerk  to  go 
without  signing  the  agreement,  that  the  person  who 
came  in  his  stead  might  not  prove  so  accommodating; 
and  even  if  he  called  again  himself,  he  might  not  be  so 
kindly  disposed.  "  Wait  just  a  moment  longer,  mon- 
sieur," she  pleaded ;  "  my  husband  will  soon  be  back, 
and  the  last  omnibus  doesn't  leave  the  Rue  de  Levis 
until  midnight." 

"  I  wouldn't  refuse,  but  this  part  of  the  suburbs  is 
so  lonely." 

"  Vantrasson  will  see  you  on  your  way."  And,  re- 
solved to  detain  him  at  any  cost,  she  poured  out  a  fresh 
glass  of  liquor  for  him,  and  said :  "  Where  were  we  ? 


44  THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS 

Oh,  yes !  I  was  about  to  tell  you  Mademoiselle  Her- 
mine's  story." 

Concealing  his  delight  with  an  assumed  air  of  resig- 
nation, M.  Fortunat  reseated  himself,,  to  the  intense 
disgust  of  Chupin,  who  was  thoroughly  tired  of  wait- 
ing outside  in  the  cold. 

"  I  must  tell  you,"  began  Madame  Vantrasson,  "  that 
when  this  happened — at  least  twenty-five  years  ago — 
the  De  Chalusse  family  lived  in  the  Rue  Saint-Domi- 
nique. They  occupied  a  superb  mansion,  with  exten- 
sive grounds,  full  of  splendid  trees  like  those  in  the 
Tuileries  gardens.  Mademoiselle  Hermine,  who  was 
then  about  eighteen  or  nineteen  years  old,  was,  accord- 
ing to  all  accounts,  the  prettiest  young  creature  ever 
seen.  Her  skin  was  as  white  as  milk,  she  had  a  pro- 
fusion of  golden  hair,  and  her  eyes  were  as  blue  as 
forget-me-nots.  She  was  very  kind  and  generous,  they 
say,  only,  like  all  the  rest  of  the  family,  she  was  very 
haughty  and  obstinate — oh,  obstinate  enough  to  allow 
herself  to  be  roasted  alive  over  a  slow  fire  rather  than 
yield  an  inch.  That's  the  count's  nature  exactly.  Hav- 
ing served  him,  I  know  something  about  it,  to  be  sure, 
and " 

"  Excuse  me,"  interrupted  M.  Fortunat,  who  was 
determined  to  prevent  these  digressions,  "  and  Made- 
moiselle Hermine  ?  " 

"  I  was  coming  to  her.  Although  she  was  very  beau- 
tiful and  immensely  rich,  she  had  no  suitors — for  it 
was  generally  understood  that  she  was  to  marry  a 
marquis,  whose  father  was  a  particular  friend  of  the 
family.  The  parents  had  arranged  the  matter  between 
them  years  before,  and  nothing  was  wanting  but  the 
young  lady's  consent ;  but  Mademoiselle  Hermine  abso- 
lutely refused  to  hear  the  marquis's  name  mentioned. 


THE   COUNTS    MILLIONS  45 

They  did  everything  to  persuade  her  to  consent  to  this 
marriage ;  they  employed  prayers  and  threats  alike,  but 
they  might  as  well  have  talked  to  a  stone.  When  they 
asked  her  why  she  refused  to  marry  the  marquis,  she 
replied,  '  Because ' — and  that  was  all.  In  fact,  at  last 
she  declared  she  would  leave  home  and  take  refuge  in 
a  convent,  if  they  didn't  cease  to  torment  her.  Her 
relatives  were  certain  there  must  be  some  reason  for 
her  refusal.  It  isn't  natural  for  a  girl  to  reject  a  suitor 
who  is  young,  handsome,  rich,  and  a  marquis  besides. 
Her  friends  suspected  there  was  something  she  wouldn't 
confess;  and  M.  Raymond  swore  that  he  would  watch 
his  sister,  and  discover  her  secret." 

"M.  Raymond  is  the  present  Count  de  Chalusse,  I 
suppose?"  inquired  M.  Fortunat. 

"Yes,  monsieur.  Such  was  the  state  of  matters 
when,  one  night,  the  gardener  thought  he  heard  a  noise 
in  the  pavilion,  at  the  end  of  the  garden.  This  pavilion 
was  very  large.  I  have  seen  it.  It  contained  a  sitting- 
room,  a  billiard-room,  and  a  large  fencing-hall.  Nat- 
urally enough,  the  gardener  got  up  to  go  and  see  what 
was  the  matter.  As  he  left  the  house,  he  fancied  he 
saw  two  persons  moving  about  among  the  trees.  He 
ran  after  them,  but  could  find  nothing.  They  had  made 
their  escape  through  a  small  gate  leading  from, the  gar- 
den into  the  street.  When  the  gardener  was  telling  me 
this  story,  he  declared  again  and  again  that  he  had 
fancied  the  noise  he  had  heard  was  made  by  some  of 
the  servants  trying  to  leave  the  house  secretly,  and  for 
this  reason  he  didn't  give  the  alarm.  However,  he  hur- 
ried to  the  pavilion,  but  on  seeing  no  light  there,  he 
went  back  to  bed  with  an  easy  mind." 

"  And  it  was  Mademoiselle  Hermine  eloping  with  a 
lover  ?  "  asked  M.  Fortunat. 


46  THE    COUNT'S    MILLION? 

Madame  Vantrasson  seemed  as  disappointed  as  an 
actor  who  has  been  deprived  of  an  opportunity  of  pro- 
ducing a  grand  effect.  "  Wait  a  moment/'  she  re- 
plied, "and  you'll  see.  The  night  passed,  morning 
came,  and  then  the  breakfast  hour.  But  Mademoiselle 
Hermine  did  not  make  her  appearance.  Some  one  was 
sent  to  rap  at  her  door — there  was  no  answer.  The 
door  was  opened — the  young  lady  was  not  in  her  room, 
and  the  bed  had  not  even  been  disturbed.  In  a  few 
moments  the  whole  household  was  in  the  wildest  com- 
motion; the  mother  weeping,  and  the  father  half  wild 
with  rage  and  sorrow.  Of  course,  the  next  thought 
was  of  Mademoiselle  Hermine's  brother,  and  he  was 
sent  for.  But,  he,  too,  was  not  in  his  room,  and  his 
bed  had  not  been  touched.  The  excitement  was  becom- 
ing frenzy,  when  it  occurred  to  the  gardener  to  men- 
tion what  he  had  heard  and  seen  on  the  previous  night. 
They  hastened  to  the  pavilion,  and  discovered  what? 
Why,  M.  Raymond  stretched  upon  the  ground,  stiff, 
cold,  and  motionless,  weltering  in  his  own  blood.  One 
of  his  rigid  hands  still  grasped  a  sword.  They  lifted 
him  up,  carried  him  to  the  house,  laid  him  upon  his 
bed,  and  sent  for  a  physician.  He  had  received  two 
dangerous  wounds;  one  in  the  throat,  the  other  in  the 
breast.  For  more  than  a  month  he  hung  between  life 
and  death,  and  six  weeks  elapsed  before  he  had  strength 
to  relate  what  had  happened.  He  was  lighting  a  cigar 
at  his  window  when  he  thought  he  saw  a  woman's  form 
flit  through  the  garden.  A  suspicion  that  it  might  be 
his  sister  flashed  through  his  mind;  so  he  hastened 
down,  stole  noiselessly  into  the  pavilion,  and  there  he 
found  his  sister  and  a  young  man  who  was  absolutely 
unknown  to  him.  He  might  have  killed  the  intruder, 
but  instead  of  doing  so,  he  told  him  they  would  fight 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  47 

then  and  there.  Weapons  were  within  reach,  and  they 
fought,,  with  the  result  that  Raymond  was  wounded 
twice,  in  quick  succession,  and  fell.  His  adversary, 
supposing  him  dead,  thereupon  fled  from  the  spot,  tak- 
ing Mademoiselle  Hermine  with  him." 

At  this  point  in  her  narrative  Madame  Vantrasson 
evinced  a  desire  to  pause  and  draw  a  breath,  and  per- 
haps partake  of  some  slight  refreshment ;  but  M.  For- 
tunat  was  impatient.  The  woman's  husband  might 
return  at  any  moment.  "  And,  after  that  ? "  he  in- 
quired. 

"  After  that — well — M.  Raymond  recovered,  and  in 
about  three  months'  time  he  was  out  again ;  but  the 
parents,  who  were  old  folks,  had  received  their  death- 
blow. They  never  rallied  from  the  shock.  Perhaps 
they  felt  that  it  was  their  own  hard-heartedness  and 
obstinacy  that  had  caused  their  daughter's  ruin — and 
remorse  is  hard  to  bear.  They  waned  perceptibly  from 
day  to  day,  and  during  the  following  year  they  were 
borne  to  the  cemetery  within  two  months  of  each 
other/' 

From  the  spurious  clerk's  demeanor  it  was  easy  to 
see  that  he  had  ceased  thinking  about  his  omnibus,  and 
his  hostess  felt  both  reassured  and  flattered.  "And 
Mademoiselle  Hermine  ?  "  he  inquired,  eagerly. 

"  Alas !  monsieur,  no  one  ever  knew  where  she  went, 
or  what  became  of  her." 

"  Didn't  they  try  to  find  her?  " 

"They  searched  for  her  everywhere,  for  I  don't 
know  how  long;  all  the  ablest  detectives  in  France  and 
in  foreign  countries  tried  to  find  her,  but  not  one  of 
them  succeeded  in  discovering  the  slightest  trace  of 
her  whereabouts.  M.  Raymond  promised  an  enormous 
sum  to  the  man  who  would  find  his  sister's  betrayer. 


48  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

He  wished  to  kill  him,  and  he  sought  for  him  for 
years;  but  all  in  vain." 

"  And  did  they  never  rejeive  any  tidings  of  this  un- 
fortunate girl?" 

"  I  was  told  that  they  heard  from  her  twice.  On 
the  morning  following  her  flight  her  parents  received 
a  letter,  in  which  she  implored  their  forgiveness.  Five 
or  six  months  later,  she  wrote  again  to  say  that  she 
knew  her  brother  was  not  dead.  She  confessed  that 
she  was  a  wicked,  ungrateful  girl — that  she  had  been 
mad;  but  she  said  that  her  punishment  had  come,  and 
it  was  terrible.  She  added  that  every  link  was  severed 
between  herself  and  her  friends,  and  she  hoped  they 
would  forget  her  as  completely  as  if  she  had  never 
existed.  She  went  so  far  as  to  say  that  her  children 
should  never  know  who  their  mother  was,  and  that 
never  in  her  life  again  would  she  utter  the  name  which 
she  had  so  disgraced." 

It  was  the  old,  sad  story  of  a  ruined  girl  paying  for 
a  moment's  madness  with  her  happiness  and  all  her 
after  life.  A  terrible  drama,  no  doubt;  but  one  that 
is  of  such  frequent  occurrence  that  it  seems  as  com- 
monplace as  life  itself.  Thus  any  one  who  was  ac- 
quainted with  M.  Isidore  Fortunat  would  have  been 
surprised  to  see  how  greatly  he  was  moved  by  such  a 
trifle.  "  Poor  girl !  "  said  he,  in  view  of  saying  some- 
thing. And  then,  in  a  tone  of  assumed  carelessness, 
he  inquired :  "  Did  they  never  discover  what  scoundrel 
carried  Mademoiselle  de  Chalusse  away  ?  " 

"  Never.  Who  he  was,  whence  he  came,  whether  he 
was  young  or  old,  how  he  became  acquainted  with 
Mademoiselle  Hermine — these  questions  were  never 
answered.  It  was  rumored  at  one  time  that  he  was  an 
American,  a  captain  in  the  navy;  but  that  was  only  a 


THE    COUNTS   MILLIONS  49 

rumor.  To  tell  the  truth,  they  never  even  discovered 
his  name." 

"What,  not  even  his  name?" 

"  Not  even  his  name.7' 

Unable  to  master  his  emotion,  M.  Fortunat  had  at 
least  the  presence  of  mind  to  rise  and  step  back  into 
the  darker  part  of  the  shop.  But  his  gesture  of  dis- 
appointment and  the  muttered  oath  that  fell  from  his 
lips  did  not  escape  Madame  Vantrasson.  She  was 
startled,  and  from  that  moment  she  looked  upon  the 
supposed  clerk  with  evident  distrust.  It  was  not  long 
before  he  again  resumed  his  seat  nearer  the  counter, 
still  a  trifle  pale,  perhaps,  but  apparently  calm.  Two 
questions  more  seemed  indispensable  to  him,  and  yet 
either  one  of  them  would  be  sure  to  arouse  suspicion. 
Nevertheless,  he  resolved  to  incur  the  risk  of  betray- 
ing himself.  And,  after  all,  what  would  it  matter  now  ? 
Did  he  not  possess  the  information  he  had  wished  for, 
at  least  as  much  of  it  as  it  was  in  this  woman's  power 
to  impart ?  "I  can  scarcely  tell  you,  my  dear  madame, 
how  much  your  narrative  has  interested  me,"  he  began. 
"  I  can  confess  now  that  I  am  slightly  acquainted  with 
the  Count  de  Chalusse,  and  that  I  have  frequently  vis- 
ited the  house  in  the  Rue  de  Courcelles,  where  he  now 
resides." 

"  You ! "  exclaimed  the  woman,  taking  a  hasty  in- 
ventory of  M.  Fortunat's  toilette. 

"  Yes,  I — on  the  part  of  my  employer,  understand. 
Each  time  I've  been  to  visit  M.  de  Chalusse's  I've  seen 
a  young  lady  whom  I  took  for  his  daughter  there.  I 
was  wrong,  no  doubt,  since  he  isn't  a  married  man " 

He  paused.  Astonishment  and  anger  seemed  to  be 
almost  suffocating  his  hostess.  Without  understand- 
ing how  or  why,  she  felt  convinced  that  she  had  been 


50  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

duped;  and  if  she  had  obeyed  her  first  impulse  ehe 
would  have  attacked  M.  Isidore  then  and  there.  If 
she  restrained  this  impulse,  if  she  made  an  effort  to 
control  herself,  it  was  only  because  she  thought  she 
held  a  better  revenge  in  reserve. 

"  A  young  lady  in  the  count's  house ! "  she  said, 
thoughtfully.  "  That's  scarcely  possible.  I've  never 
seen  her;  I've  never  heard  her  spoken  of.  How  long 
has  she  been  there?" 

"  For  six  or  seven  months  ?  " 

"  In  that  case,  I  can't  absolutely  deny  it.  It's  two 
years  since  I  set  foot  in  the  count's  house." 

"  I  fancied  this  young  lady  might  be  the  count's  niece 
Mademoiselle  Hermine's  daughter." 

Madame  Vantrasson  shook  her  head.  "  Put  that 
fancy  out  of  your  head,"  she  remarked.  "The  count 
said  that  his  sister  was  dead  to  him  from  the  evening 
of  her  flight." 

"Who  can  this  young  girl  be,  then?" 

"  Bless  me !  I  don't  know.  What  sort  of  a  looking 
person  is  she  ?  " 

"  Very  tall ;  a  brunette." 

"How  old  is  she?" 

"  Eighteen  or  nineteen." 

The  woman  made  a  rapid  calculation  on  her  fingers. 
"  Nine  and  four  are  thirteen,"  she  muttered,  "  and  five 
are  eighteen.  Ah,  ha! — why  not?  I  must  look  into 
this/' 

"What  did  you  say?" 

"  Nothing ;  a  little  reflection  I  was  making  to  myself. 
Do  you  know  this  young  lady's  name  ?  " 

"  It's  Marguerite." 

The  woman's  face  clouded.  "  No ;  it  can't  be  then/' 
she  muttered,  in  a  scarcely  audible  voice. 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  M 

M.  Fortunat  was  on  coals  of  fire.  It  was  evident 
that  this  frightful  creature,  even  if  she  knew  nothing 
definite,  had  some  idea,  some  vague  suspicion  of  the 
truth.  How  could  he  compel  her  to  speak  now  that 
she  was  on  her  guard?  He  had  not  time  to  ascertain,, 
for  the  door  suddenly  opened,  and  Vantrasson  appeared 
on  the  threshold.  He  was  scarcely  sober  when  he  left 
the  shop,  but  now  he  was  fairly  drunk ;  his  heavy  sham- 
ble had  become  a  stagger.  "  Oh,  you  wretch,  you 
brigand !  "  howled  his  wife ;  "  you've  been  drinking 
again ! " 

He  succeeded  in  maintaining  his  equilibrium,  and, 
gazing  at  her  with  the  phlegmatic  stare  peculiar  to  in- 
toxicated men,  he  replied :  "  Well,  what  of  that !  Can't 
I  have  a  little  pleasure  with  my  friends  ?  I  came  across 
a  couple  of  men  who  were  just  taking  their  fifteenth 
glass;  why  should  I  refuse  a  compliment?" 

"  You  can't  hold  yourself  up." 

"  That's  true."  And  to  prove  it  he  tumbled  on  to  a 
chair. 

A  torrent  of  abuse  now  flowed  from  Madame  Van- 
trasson's  lips !  M.  Fortunat  only  imperfectly  distin- 
guished the  words  "thief,"  "spy,"  and  "detective;" 
but  he  could  not  mistake  the  meaning  of  the  looks 
which  she  alternately  gave  her  husband  and  himself. 
"  If  s  a  fortunate  thing  for  you  that  my  husband  is  in 
this  condition,"  her  glances  plainly  implied,  "other- 
wise there  would  be  an  explanation,  and  then  we  should 
see " 

"I've  had  a  lucky  escape,"  thought  the  spurious 
clerk.  But  as  matters  stood  there  was  nothing  to  fear.  It 
was  a  case  where  one  could  show  a  brave  front  to  the 
enemy  without  incurring  the  slightest  danger.  "  Let 
your  hurband  alone,"  said  he.  "  If  he  has  only  brought 


52  THE   COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

the  paper  that  he  was  sent  to  fetch,  I  sha'n't  have  lost 
my  evening  to  oblige  you." 

Vantrasson  had  brought  not  one  sheet  of  stamped 
paper,  but  two.  A  bad  pen  and  some  muddy  ink  were 
produced,  and  M.  Fortunat  began  to  draw  up  an  ac- 
knowledgment according  to  the  established  formula. 
However,  it  was  necessary  to  mention  the  name  of  the 
creditor  of  whom  he  had  spoken,  and  not  wishing  to 
state  his  own,  he  used  that  of  poor  Victor  Chupin,  who 
was  at  that  very  moment  shivering  at  the  door,  little 
suspecting  what  liberty  was  being  taken  with  his  cog- 
nomen. 

"  Chupin ! "  repeated  the  vixen,  as  if  to  engrave  the 
name  on  her  memory ;  "  Victor  Chupin !  I  should 
just  like  to  see  him,"  she  added,  viciously. 

When  the  document  was  finished,  it  became  neces- 
sary to  wake  Vantrasson,  so  that  he  might  sign  it.  He 
did  so  with  very  good  grace,  and  his  wife  appended  her 
signature  beside  her  husband's.  Thereupon  M.  For- 
tunat gave  them  in  exchange  the  note  which  had  served 
as  a  pretext  for  his  visit.  "And  above  all/'  he  re- 
marked, as  he  opened  the  door  to  go,  "  don't  forget 
that  you  are  to  pay  something  on  account  each  month." 

"  Go  to  the  devil,  and  your  account  with  you ! " 
growled  Madame  Vantrasson. 

But  Fortunat  did  not  hear  this.  He  was  already 
walking  down  the  road  by  the  side  of  Chupin,  who 
was  saying :  "  Well,  here  you  are,  at  last,  m'sieur !  I 
thought  you  had  taken  a  lease  of  that  old  barrack.  If 
ever  I  come  here  again,  I'll  bring  a  foot-warmer  with 
me." 

But  one  of  those  fits  of  profound  abstraction  to  which 
determined  seekers  after  truth  are  subject  had  taken 
possession  of  M.  Fnrtunat,  and  made  him  oblivious  of 


THE   COUNT'S   MILLIONS  53 

all  surrounding  circumstances.  His  heart  had  been 
full  of  hope  when  he  reached  the  Asnieres  Road,  but 
he  went  away  gloomy  and  despondent;  and  quite  un- 
conscious of  the  darkness,  the  mud,  and  the  rain,  which 
was  again  falling,  he  silently  plodded  along  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  highway.  Chupin  was  obliged  to  stop  him 
at  the  city  gate,  and  remind  him  that  the  cab  was 
waiting. 

"  That's  true,"  was  M.  Fortunat's  only  answer.  He 
entered  the  vehicle,  certainly  without  knowing  it;  and 
as  they  rolled  homeward,  the  thoughts  that  filled  his 
brain  to  overflowing  found  vent  in  a  sort  of  mono- 
logue, of  which  Chupin  now  and  then  caught  a  few 
words.  "What  a  piece  of  business!"  he  muttered — 
"  what  a  piece  of  business !  I've  had  seven  years'  ex- 
perience in  such  matters,  and  yet  I've  never  met  with 
an  affair  so  shrouded  in  mystery.  My  forty  thousand 
francs  are  in  a  precarious  condition.  Certainly  I've 
lost  money  before  through  heirs  whose  existence  I 
hadn't  even  suspected;  but  by  reinstating  these  same 
heirs  in  their  rights,  I've  regained  my  lost  money,  and 
received  a  handsome  reward  in  addition;  but  in  this 
case  all  is  darkness ;  there  isn't  a  single  gleam  of  light 
— not  the  slightest  clew.  If  I  could  only  find  them! 
But  how  can  I  search  for  people  whose  names  I  don't 
even  know — for  people  who  have  escaped  all  the  in- 
quiries of  the  police  ?  And  where  shall  I  look  for  them 
— in  Europe,  in  America  ?  It  would  be  sheer  madness ! 
To  whom,  then,  will  the  count's  millions  go  ?  " 

It  was  only  the  sudden  stoppage  of  the  cab  in  front 
of  his  own  door  that  recalled  M.  Fortunat  to  the  reali- 
ties of  life.  "  Here  are  twenty  francs,  Victor,"  he  said 
to  Chupin.  "  Pay  the  driver,  and  keep  the  rest  your- 
self." 


54  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

As  he  spoke,  he  sprang  nimbly  to  the  ground.  A 
handsome  brougham,  drawn  by  two  horses,  was  stand- 
ing before  the  house.  "  The  Marquis  de  Valorsay's 
carriage/'  muttered  M.  Fortunat.  "  He  has  been 
very  patient;  he  has  waited  for  me — or,  rather,  he 
has  waited  for  my  ten  thousand  francs.  Well,  we 
shall  see." 


III. 


M.  FORTUNAT  had  scarcely  started  off  on  his  visit  to 
the  Vantrassons  when  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay  reached 
the  Place  de  la  Bourse. 

"  Monsieur  has  gone  out,"  said  Madame  Dodelin,  as 
she  opened  the  door. 

"  You  must  be  mistaken,  my  good  woman." 

"  No,  no ;  my  master  said  you  would,  perhaps,  wait 
for  him." 

"  Very  well ;  I  will  do  so." 

Faithful  to  the  orders  she  had  received,  the  servant 
conducted  the  visitor  to  the  drawing-room,  lit  the  tapers 
in  the  candelabra,  and  retired.  "  This  is  very  strange!" 
growled  the  marquis.  "  Monsieur  Fortunat  makes  an 
appointment,  Monsieur  Fortunat  expects  me  to  wait 
for  him !  What  will  happen  next  ?  "  However,  he 
drew  a  newspaper  from  his  pocket,  threw  himself  into 
an  arm-chair,  and  waited. 

By  his  habits  and  tastes,  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay 
belonged  to  that  section  of  the  aristocracy  which  has 
coined  the  term  "high  life"  in  view  of  describing  its 
own  manners  and  customs.  The  matters  that  engrossed 
the  marquis's  frivolous  mind  were  club-life  and  first 
performances  at  the  opera  and  the  leading  theatres, 
social  duties  and  visits  to  the  fashionable  watering- 


THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS  55 

places,  racing  and  the  shooting  and  hunting  seasons, 
together  with  his  mistress  and  his  tailor. 

He  considered  that  to  ride  in  a  steeple-chase  was  an 
act  of  prowess  worthy  of  his  ancestors;  and  when  he 
galloped  past  the  stand,  clad  as  a  jockey,  in  top-boots 
and  a  violet  silk  jacket,  he  believed  he  read  admira- 
tion ki  every  eye.  This  was  his  every-day  life,  which 
had  been  enlivened  by  a  few  salient  episodes :  two  duels, 
an  elopement  with  a  married  woman,  a  twenty-six 
hours'  seance  at  the  gaming  table,  and  a  fall  from  his 
horse,  while  hunting,  which  nearly  cost  him  his  life. 
These  acts  of  valor  had  raised  him  considerably  in  the 
estimation  of  his  friends,  and  procured  him  a  celebrity 
of  which  he  was  not  a  little  proud.  The  newspaper 
reporters  were  constantly  mentioning  his  name,  and 
the  sporting  journals  never  failed  to  chronicle  his  de- 
parture from  Paris  or  his  arrival  in  the  city. 

Unfortunately,  such  a  life  of  busy  idleness  has  its 
trials  and  its  vicissitudes,  and  M.  de  Valorsay  was  a 
living  proof  of  this.  He  was  only  thirty-three,  but  in 
spite  of  the  care  he  expended  upon  his  toilette,  he  looked 
at  least  forty.  Wrinkles  were  beginning  to  show 
themselves;  it  required  all  the  skill  of  his  valet  to 
conceal  the  bald  spots  on  his  cranium;  and  since  his 
fall  from  his  horse,  he  had  been  troubled  by  a  slight 
stiffness  in  his  right  leg,  which  stiffness  became  perfect 
lameness  in  threatening  weather.  Premature  lassitude 
pervaded  his  entire  person,  and  when  he  relaxed  in 
vigilance  even  his  eyes  betrayed  a  distaste  for  every- 
thing— weariness,  satiety  as  it  were.  All  the  same, 
however,  he  bore  himself  with  an  undeniable  air  of 
distinction,  albeit  the  haughtiness  of  his  manner  indi- 
cated an  exaggerated  idea  of  his  own  importance.  He 
was  indeed  in  the  habit  of  treating  all  those  whom 


56  THE   COUNT'S   MILLIONS 

he    considered    his    inferiors    with    supercilious    suffi- 
ciency. 

The  clock  on  M.  Fortunat's  mantel-shelf  struck  eleven 
at  last  and  the  marquis  rose  to  his  feet  with  a  muttered 
oath.  "  This  is  too  much !  "  he  growled,  angrily. 

He  looked  about  for  a  bell,  and  seeing  none,  he  was 
reduced  to  the  dire  necessity  of  opening  the  door  him- 
self,  and  calling  some  one.  Madame  Dodelin  answered 
the  summons.  "  Monsieur  said  he  would  return  before 
midnight/'  she  replied ;  "  so  he  will  certainly  be  here. 
There  is  no  one  like  him  for  punctuality.  Won't  mon- 
sieur have  patience  a  little  longer?" 

"  Well,  I  will  wait  a  few  moments ;  but,  my  good 
woman,  light  the  fire ;  my  feet  are  frozen ! " 

M.  Fortunafs  drawing-room  being  used  but  seldom, 
was  really  as  frigid  as  an  iceberg;  and  to  make  mat- 
ters still  worse,  M.  de  Valorsay  was  in  evening  dress, 
with  only  a  light  overcoat.  The  servant  hesitated  for 
an  instant,  thinking  this  visitor  difficult  to  please,  and 
inclined  to  make  himself  very  much  at  home,  still  she 
obeyed. 

"  I  think  I  ought  to  go,"  muttered  the  marquis.  "  I 
really  think  I  ought  to  go."  And  yet  he  remained. 
Necessity,  it  should  be  remembered,  effectually  quiets 
the  revolts  of  pride. 

Left  an  orphan  in  his  early  childhood,  placed  in  pos- 
session of  an  immense  fortune  at  the  age  of  twenty- 
three,  M.  de  Valorsay  had  entered  life  like  a  famished 
man  enters  a  dining-room.  His  name  entitled  him  to- 
a  high  position  in  the  social  world;  and  he  installed 
himself  at  table  without  asking  how  much  the  banquet 
might  cost  him.  It  cost  him  dear,  as  he  discovered  at 
the  end  of  the  first  year,  on  noting  that  his  disburse- 
ments had  considerably  exceeded  his  large  income.  It 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  57 

was  very  evident  that  if  he  went  on  in  this  way,  each 
twelvemonth  would  deepen  an  abyss  where  in  the  one 
hundred  and  sixty  thousand  francs  a  year,  left  him  by 
his  father,  would  finally  be  swallowed  up.  But  he  had 
plenty  of  time  to  reflect  upon  this  unpleasant  possibility 
ere  it  could  come  to  pass !  And,  besides,  he  found  his 
present  life  so  delightful,  and  he  obtained  so  much 
gratification  for  his  money,  that  he  was  unwilling  to 
make  any  change.  He  possessed  several  fine  estates, 
and  he  found  plenty  of  men  who  were  only  too  glad  to 
lend  him  money  on  such  excellent  security.  He  bor- 
rowed timidly  at  first,  but  more  boldly  when  he  dis- 
covered what  a  mere  trifle  a  mortgage  is.  Moreover, 
his  wants  increased  in  proportion  to  his  vanity.  Oc- 
cupying a  certain  position  in  the  opinion  of  his  ac- 
quaintances, he  did  not  wish  to  descend  from  the 
heights  to  which  they  had  exalted  him;  and  the  very 
fact  that  he  had  been  foolishly  extravagant  one  year 
made  it  necessary  for  him  to  be  guilty  of  similar  folly 
during  the  succeeding  twelvemonth.  He  failed  to  pay 
his  creditors  the  interest  that  was  due  on  his  loans. 
They  did  not  ask  him  for  it ;  and  perhaps  he  forgot  that 
it  was  slowly  but  surely  accumulating,  and  that  at  the 
end  of  a  certain  number  of  years  the  amount  of  his  in- 
debtedness would  be  doubled.  He  never  thought  what 
the  end  would  be.  He  became  absolutely  ignorant  of 
the  condition  of  his  affairs,  and  really  arrived  at  the 
conclusion  that  his  resources  were  inexhaustible.  He 
believed  this  until  one  day  when  on  going  to  his  lawyer 
for  some  money,  that  gentleman  coldly  said:  "You 
requested  me  to  obtain  one  hundred  thousand  francs 
for  you,  Monsieur  le  Marquis — but  I  have  only  been 
able  to  procure  fifty  thousand — here  they  are.  And  do 
not  hope  for  more.  All  your  real  estate  is  encumbered 


58  THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS 

beyond  its  value.  Your  creditors  will  probably  leave 
you  in  undisturbed  possession  for  another  year — it  will 
be  to  their  interest — but  when  it  has  elapsed  they  will 
take  possession  of  their  own,  as  they  have  a  perfect 
right  to  do."  Then,  with  a  meaning  smile,  the  smile 
of  a  wily  prime  minister,  he  added :  "  If  I  were  in  your 
place,  Monsieur  le-  Marquis,  I  would  profit  by  this  year 
of  grace.  You  undoubtedly  understand  what  I  mean. 
I  have  the  honor  to  wish  you  good-morning." 

What  an  awakening — after  a  glorious  dream  that 
had  lasted  for  ten  years.  M.  de  Valor  say  was  stunned 
— crushed.  For  three  days  he  remained  immured  in  his 
own  room,  obstinately  refusing  to  receive  any  one. 
"  The  marquis  is  ill,"  was  his  valet's  answer  to  every 
visitor. 

M.  de  Valorsay  felt  that  he  must  have  time  to  re- 
gain his  mental  equilibrium — to  look  his  situation 
calmly  in  the  face.  It  was  a  frightful  one,  for  his  ruin 
Was  complete,  absolute.  He  could  save  nothing  from 
the  wreck.  What  was  to  become  of  him?  What  could 
he  do  ?  He  set  his  wits  to  work ;  but  he  found  that  he 
was  incapable  of  plying  any  kind  of  avocation.  All  the 
energy  he  had  been  endowed  with  by  nature  had  been 
squandered — exhausted  in  pandering  to  his  self-conceit. 
If  he  had  been  younger  he  might  have  turned  soldier; 
but  at  his  age  he  had  not  even  this  resource.  Then  it 
was  that  his  notary's  smile  recurred  to  his  mind.  "  His 
advice  was  decidedly  good,"  he  muttered.  "  All  is  not 
yet  lost;  one  way  of  escape  still  remains — marriage." 

And  why,  indeed,  shouldn't  he  marry,  and  marry  a 
rich  wife  too?  No  one  knew  anything  about  his  mis- 
fortune; for  a  year  at  least,  he  would  retain  all  the 
advantages  that  wealth  bestows  upon  its  possessor.  His 
name  alone  was  a  great  advantage.  It  would  be  very 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  59 

strange  if  he  could  not  find  some  manufacturer's  or 
banker's  daughter  who  would  be  only  too  delighted  to 
have  a  marquisial  coronet  emblazoned  on  her  carriage 
panels. 

Having  arrived  at  this  conclusion,  M.  de  Valorsay 
began  his  search,  and  it  was  not  long  before  he  thought 
he  had  found  what  he  was  seeking.  But  something 
was  still  necessary.  The  bestowers  of  large  dowers  are 
inclined  to  be  suspicious ;  they  like  to  have  a  clear  un- 
derstanding as  to  the  financial  position  of  the  suitors 
who  present  themselves,  and  they  not  unfrequently  ask 
for  information.  Accordingly,  before  committing  him- 
self, M.  de  Valorsay  understood  that  it  was  necessary 
he  should  provide  himself  with  an  intelligent  and  de- 
voted adviser.  There  must  be  some  one  to  hold  his 
creditors  in  check,  to  silence  them,  and  obtain  sundry 
concessions  from  them — in  a  word,  some  one  to  inter- 
est them  in  his  success.  With  this  object  in  view,  M. 
de  Valorsay  applied  to  his  notary ;  but  the  latter  utterly 
refused  to  mix  himself  up  in  any  such  affair,  and  de- 
clared that  the  marquis's  suggestion  was  almost  an 
insult.  Then  touched,  perhaps,  by  his  client's  apparent 
despair,  he  said,  "  But  I  can  mention  a  person  who 
might  be  of  service  to  you.  Go  to  M.  Isidore  Fortunat, 
No.  27  Place  de  la  Bourse.  If  you  succeed  in  interest- 
ing him  in  your  marriage,  it  is  an  accomplished  fact." 

It  was  under  these  circumstances  that  the  marquis 
became  acquainted  with  M.  Fortunat.  M.  de  Valorsay 
was  a  man  of  no  little  penetration,  and  on  his  first  visit 
he  carefully  weighed  his  new  acquaintance.  He  found 
him  to  be  the  very  counsellor  he  desired — prudent,  and 
at  the  same  time  courageous;  fertile  in  expedients;  a 
thorough  master  of  the  art  of  evading  the  law,  and  not 
at  all  troubled  by  scruples.  With  such  an  adviser,  it 


60  THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS 

would  be  mere  child's  play  to  conceal  his  financial  em- 
barrassments and  deceive  the  most  suspicious  father- 
in-law.  So  M.  de  Valorsay  did  not  hesitate  a  mo- 
ment. He  frankly  disclosed  his  pecuniary  condition 
and  his  matrimonial  hopes,  and  concluded  by  promising 
M.  Fortunat  a  certain  percentage  on  the  bride's  dowry, 
to  be  paid  on  the  day  following  the  marriage. 

After  a  prolonged  conference,  the  agreement  was 
drawn  up  and  signed,  and  that  very  day  M.  Fortunat 
took  the  nobleman's  interests  in  hand.  How  heartily, 
and  with  what  confidence  in  his  success,  is  shown  by 
the  fact  that  he  had  advanced  forty  thousand  francs 
for  his  client's  use,  out  of  his  own  private  purse.  After 
such  a  proof  of  confidence  the  marquis  could  hardly 
have  been  dissatisfied  with  his  adviser;  in  point  of 
fact,  he  was  delighted  with  him,  and  all  the  more  so, 
as  this  invaluable  man  always  treated  him  with  extreme 
deference,  verging  on  servility.  And  in  M.  de  Valor- 
say's  eyes  this  was  a  great  consideration;  for  he  was 
becoming  more  arrogant  and  more  irascible  in  pro- 
portion as  his  right  to  be  so  diminished.  Secretly  dis- 
gusted with  himself,  and  deeply  humiliated  by  the 
shameful  intrigue  to  which  he  had  stooped,  he  took  a 
secret  satisfaction  in  crushing  his  accomplice  with  his 
imaginary  superiority  and  lordly  disdain.  According  as 
his  humor  was  good  or  bad,  he  called  him  "  my  dear 
extortioner,"  "  Mons.  Fortunat,"  or  "  Master  Twenty- 
per-cent."  But  though  these  sneers  and  insults  drove 
the  obsequious  smile  from  M.  Fortunat's  lips,  he  was 
quite  capable  of  including  them  in  the  bill  under  the 
head  of  sundries. 

The  unvarying  deference  and  submission  which  M. 
de  Valorsay's  adviser  displayed  made  his  failure  to 
keep  the  present  appointment  all  the  more  remarkable. 


THE   COUNTS    MILLIONS  61 

Such  neglect  of  the  commonest  rules  of  courtesy  was 
inconceivable  on  the  part  of  so  polite  a  man;  and  the 
marquis's  anger  gradually  changed  to  anxiety.  "  What 
can  have  happened?"  he  thought. 

He  was  trying  to  decide  whether  he  should  leave 
or  stay,  when  he  heard  a  key  grate  in  the  lock  of  the 
outer  door,  and  then  some  quick  steps  along  the  ante- 
room. "  At  last — here  he  is !  "  he  muttered,  with  a 
sigh  of  relief. 

He  expected  to  see  M.  Fortunat  enter  the  room  at 
once,  but  he  was  disappointed.  The  agent  had  no  de- 
sire to  show  himself  in  the  garb  which  he  had  assumed 
for  his  excursion  with  Chupin ;  and  so  he  had  hastened 
to  his  room  to  don  his  wonted  habiliments.  He  also 
desired  a  few  moments  for  deliberation. 

If — as  was  most  probably  the  case — M.  de  Valorsay 
were  ignorant  of  the  Count  de  Chalusse's  critical  con- 
dition, was  it  advisable  to  tell  him  of  it?  M.  Fortunat 
thought  not,  judging  with  reason  that  this  would  lead 
to  a  discussion  and  very  possibly  to  a  rupture,  and  he 
wished  to  avoid  anything  of  the  kind  until  he  was  quite 
certain  of  the  count' s  death. 

Meanwhile  the  marquis  was  thinking — he  was  a 
trifle  late  about  it — that  he  had  done  wrong  to  wait 
in  that  drawing-room  for  three  mortal  hours.  Was 
such  conduct  worthy  of  him?  Had  he  shown  himself 
proper  respect?  Would  not  M.  Fortunat  construe  this 
as  an  acknowledgment  of  the  importance  of  his  ser- 
vices and  his  client's  urgent  need?  Would  he  not  be- 
come more  exacting,  more  exorbitant  in  his  demands? 
If  the  marquis  could  have  made  his  escape  unheard, 
he  would,  no  doubt,  have  done  so ;  but  this  was  out  of 
the  question.  So  he  resorted  to  a  stratagem  which 
seemed  to  him  likely  to  -save  his  compromised  dignity. 


62  THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS 

He  stretched  himself  out  in  his  arm-chair,  closed  his 
eyes,  and  pretended  to  doze.  Then,  when  M.  Fortunat 
at  last  entered  the  drawing-room  he  sprang  up  as  if  he 
were  suddenly  aroused  from  slumber,  rubbed  his  eyes, 
and  exclaimed:  "Eh!  what's  that?  Upon  my  word  I 
must  have  been  asleep !  " 

But  M.  Fortunat  was  not  deceived.  He  noticed,  on 
the  floor,  a  torn  and  crumpled  newspaper,  which  be- 
trayed the  impatience  and  anger  his  client  had  ex- 
perienced during  his  long  waiting.  "Well/'  resumed 
the  marquis,  "what  time  is  it?  Half-past  twelve? 
This  is  a  pretty  time  to  keep  an  appointment  fixed  for 
ten  o'clock.  This  is  presuming  on  my  good-nature,  M. 
Fortunat!  Do  you  know  that  my  carriage  has  been 
waiting  below  ever  since  half-past  nine,  and  that  my 
horses  have,  perhaps,  taken  cold?  A  pair  of  horses 
worth  six  hundred  louis !  " 

M.  Fortunat  listened  to  these  reproaches  with  the 
deepest  humility.  "You  must  excuse  me,  Monsieur 
le  Marquis/5  said  he.  "  If  I  remained  out  so  much 
later  than  usual,  it  was  only  because  your  business  in- 
terests detained  me." 

"  Zounds !  that  is  about  the  same  as  if  it  had  been 
your  own  business  that  detained  you ! "  And  well 
pleased  with  this  joke,  he  added,  "  Ah  well !  How 
are  affairs  progressing?" 

"  On  my  side  as  well  as  could  be  desired." 

The  marquis  had  resumed  his  seat  in  the  chimney- 
corner,  and  was  poking  the  fire  with  a  haughty,  but 
poorly  assumed  air  of  indifference.  "  I  am  listening," 
he  said  carelessly. 

"  In  that  case,  Monsieur  le  Marquis,  I  will  state  the 
facts  in  a  few  words,  without  going  into  particulars. 
Thanks  to  an  expedient  devised  by  me,  we  shall  obtain 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  63 

for  twenty  hours  a  release  from  all  the  mortgages  that 
now  encumber  your  estates.  On  that  very  day  we  will 
request  a  certificate  from  the  recorder.  This  certificate 
will  declare  that  your  estates  are  free  from  all  encum- 
brances; you  will  show  this  statement  to  M.  de  Cha- 
lusse,  and  all  his  doubts — that  is,  if  he  has  any — will 
vanish.  The  plan  was  very  simple;  the  only  difficulty 
was  about  raising  the  money,  but  I  have  succeeded  in 
doing  so.  All  your  creditors  but  two  lent  themselves 
very  readily  to  the  arrangement.  I  have  now  won  the 
consent  of  the  two  who  at  first  refused,  but  we  shall 
have  to  pay  dearly  for  it.  It  will  cost  you  about  twenty- 
six  thousand  francs." 

M.  de  Valorsay  was  so  delighted  that  he  could  not 
refrain  from  clapping  his  hands.  "Then  the  affair  is 
virtually  concluded/'  he  exclaimed.  "  In  less  than  a 
month  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  will  be  the  Marquise 
de  Valorsay,  and  I  shall  have  a  hundred  thousand 
francs  a  year  again."  Then,  noting  how  gravely  M. 
Fortunat  shook  his  head :  "  Ah !  so  you  doubt  it ! "  he 
cried  "  Very  well ;  now  it  is  your  turn  to  listen.  Yes- 
terday I  had  a  long  conference  with  the  Count  de 
Chalusse,  and  everything  has  been  settled.  We  ex- 
changed our  word  of  honor,  Master  Twenty-per-cent. 
The  count  does  things  in  a  princely  fashion;  he  gives 
Mademoiselle  Marguerite  two  millions." 

"  Two  millions ! "  the  other  repeated  like  an  echo. 

"Yes,  my  dear  miser,  neither  more  nor  less.  Only 
for  private  reasons,  which  he  did  not  explain,  the  count 
stipulates  that  only  two  hundred  thousand  francs  shall 
appear  in  the  marriage  contract.  The  remaining  eigh- 
teen hundred  thousand  francs,  he  gives  to  me  unre- 
servedly and  unconditionally.  Upon  my  word,  I  think 
this  very  charming.  How  does  it  strike  you  ?  " 


64  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

M.  Fortunat  made  no  reply.  M.  de  Valorsay's  gayety, 
instead  of  cheering,  saddened  him.  "  Ah !  my  fine 
fellow,"  he  thought,  "you  would  sing  a  different  song 
If  you  knew  that  by  this  time  M.  de  Chalusse  is  prob- 
ably dead,  and  that  most  likely  Mademoiselle  Marguer- 
ite has  only  her  beautiful  eyes  left  her,  and  will  dim 
them  in  weeping  for  her  vanished  millions." 

But  this  brilliant  scion  of  the  aristocracy  had  no 
suspicion  of  the  real  state  of  affairs,  for  he  continued : 
"You  will  say,  perhaps,  it  is  strange,  that  I,  Ange- 
Marie  Robert  Dalbou,  Marquis  de  Valorsay,  should 
marry  a  girl  whose  father  and  mother  no  one  knows, 
and  whose  only  name  is  Marguerite.  In  this  respect 
it  is  true  that  the  match  is  not  exactly  a  brilliant  one. 
Still,  as  it  will  appear  that  she  merely  has  a  fortune 
of  two  hundred  thousand  francs,  no  one  will  accuse 
me  of  marrying  for  money  on  the  strength  of  my  name. 
On  the  contrary,  it  will  seem  to  be  a  love-match,  and 
people  will  suppose  that  I  have  grown  young  again." 
He  paused,  incensed  by  M.  Fortunat's  lack  of  enthusi- 
asm.  "Judging  from  your  long  face,  Master  Twenty- 
per-cent,  one  would  fancy  you  doubted  my  success," 
he  said. 

"  It  is  always  best  to  doubt,"  replied  his  adviser, 
philosophically. 

The  marquis  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "Even  when 
one  has  triumphed  over  all  obstacles  ?  "  he  asked  sneer- 
ingly. 

"Yes." 

"Then,  tell  me,  if  you  please,  what  prevents  this 
marriage  from  being  a  foregone  conclusion  ?  " 

"  Mademoiselle  Marguerite's  consent,  Monsieur  le 
Marquis." 

It  was  as  if  a  glass  of  ice-water  had  been  thrown  in 


THE   COUNT'S   MILLIONS  65 

M.  de  Valorsay's  face.  He  started,  turned  as  pale  as 
death,  and  then  exclaimed :  "  I  shall  have  that ;  I  am 
sure  of  it." 

You  could  not  say  that  M.  Fortunat  was  angry. 
Such  a  man,  as  cold  and  as  smooth  as  a  hundred  franc 
piece,  has  no  useless  passions.  But  he  was  intensely 
irritated  to  hear  his  client  foolishly  chanting  the  paeons 
of  victory,  while  he  was  compelled  to  conceal  his  grief 
at  the  loss  of  his  forty  thousand  francs,  deep  in  the 
recesses  of  his  heart.  So,  far  from  being  touched  by 
the  marquis's  evident  alarm,  it  pleased  him  to  be  able 
to  turn  the  dagger  in  the  wound  he  had  just  inflicted. 
"  You  must  excuse  my  incredulity,"  said  he.  "  It 
comes  entirely  from  something  you,  yourself,  told  me 
about  a  week  ago." 

"What  did  I  tell  you?" 

"  That  you  suspected  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  of 
a — how  shall  I  express  it? — of  a  secret  preference  for 
some  other  person." 

The  gloomiest  despondency  had  now  followed  the 
marquis's  enthusiasm  and  exultation.  He  was  evi- 
dently in  torture.  "  I  more  than  suspected  it,"  said  he. 

"  Ah ! " 

"  I  was  certain  of  it,  thanks  to  the  count's  house- 
keeper, Madame  Leon,  a  miserable  old  woman  whom 
I  have  hired  to  look  after  my  interests.  She  has  been 
watching  Mademoiselle  Marguerite,  and  saw  a  letter 
written  by  her " 

"  Oh ! " 

"  Certainly  nothing  has  passed  that  Mademoiselle 
Marguerite  has  any  cause  to  blush  for.  The  letter, 
which  is  now  in  my  possession,  contains  unmistakable 
proofs  of  that.  She  might  proudly  avow  the  love  she  has 
inspired,  and  which  she  undoubtedly  returns.  Yet " 


66  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

M.  Fortunat's  gaze  was  so  intent  that  it  became 
unbearable.  "  You  see,  then/'  he  began,  "  that  I  had 
good  cause  to  fear — 

Exasperated  beyond  endurance,  M.  de  Valorsay 
sprang  up  so  violently  that  he  overturned  his  chair. 
"  No !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  no,  a  thousand  times  no !  You 
are  wrong — for  the  man  who  loves  Mademoiselle  Mar- 
guerite is  now  ruined.  Yes,  such  is  really  the  case. 
While  we  are  sitting  here,  at  this  very  moment,  he  is 
lost — irredeemably  lost.  Between  him  and  the  woman 
whom  I  wish  to  marry — whom  I  shall  marry — I  have 
dug  so  broad  and  deep  an  abyss  that  the  strongest  love 
cannot  overleap  it.  It  is  better  and  worse  than  if  I 
had  killed  him.  Dead,  he  would  have  been  mourned, 
perhaps;  while  now,  the  lowest  and  most  degraded 
woman  would  turn  from  him  in  disgust,  or,  even  if  she 
loved  him,  she  would  not  dare  to  confess  it." 

M.  Fortunat  seemed  greatly  disturbed.  "  Have  you 
then  put  into  execution  the  project — the  plan  you  spoke 
of?"  he  faltered.  "I  thought  you  were  only  jesting." 

The  marquis  lowered  his  head.  "  Yes,"  he  answered. 

His  companion  stood  for  a  moment  as  if  petrified, 
and  then  suddenly  exclaimed:  "What!  You  have 
done  that — you — a  gentleman  ?  " 

M.  de  Valorsay  paced  the  floor  in  a  state  of  intense 
agitation.  Had  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  his  own  face 
in  the  looking-glass,  it  would  have  frightened  him. 
"  A  gentleman ! "  he  repeated,  in  a  tone  of  suppressed 
rage ;  "  a  gentleman !  That  word  is  in  everybody's 
mouth,  nowadays.  Pray,  what  do  you  understand  by 
a  gentleman,  Mons.  Fortunat?  No  doubt,  you  mean  a 
heroic  idiot  who  passed  through  life  with  a  lofty  mien, 
clad  in  all  the  virtues,  as  stoical  as  Job,  and  as  re- 
signed as  a  martyr — a  sort  of  moral  Don  Quixote, 


THE   COUNTS    MILLIONS  67 

preaching  the  austerest  virtue,  and  practising  it  ?  But, 
unfortunately,  nobility  of  soul  and  of  purpose  are  ex- 
pensive luxuries,  and  I  am  a  ruined  man.  I  am  no 
saint !  I  love  life  and  all  that  makes  life  beautiful  and 
desirable — and  to  procure  its  pleasures  I  must  fight 
with  the  weapons  of  the  age.  No  doubt,  it  is  grand 
to  be  honest;  but  in  my  case  it  is  so  impossible,  that  I 
prefer  to  be  dishonest — to  commit  an  act  of  shameful 
infamy  which  will  yield  a  hundred  thousand  francs  a 
year.  This  man  is  in  my  way — I  suppress  him — so 
much  the  worse  for  him — he  has  no  business  to  be  in 
my  way.  If  I  could  have  met  him  openly,  I  would 
have  dispatched  him  according  to  the  accepted  code 
of  honor;  but,  then,  I  should  have  had  to  renounce  all 
idea  of  marrying  Mademoiselle  Marguerite,  so  I  was 
obliged  to  find  some  other  way.  I  could  not  choose 
my  means.  The  drowning  man  does  not  reject  the 
plank,  which  is  his  only  chance  of  salvation,  because  it 
chances  to  be  dirty." 

His  gestures  were  even  more  forcible  than  his  words ; 
and  when  he  concluded,  he  threw  himself  on  to  the 
sofa,  holding  his  head  tightly  between  his  hands,  as  if 
he  felt  that  it  was  bursting.  Anger  choked  his  utter- 
ance— not  anger  so  much  as  something  he  would  not 
confess,  the  quickening  of  his  own  conscience  and  the 
revolt  of  every  honorable  instinct;  for,  in  spite  of  his 
sins  of  omission,  and  of  commission,  never,  until  this 
day,  had  he  actually  violated  any  clause  of  the  code 
acknowledged  by  men  of  honor. 

"You  have  been  guilty  of  a  most  infamous  act, 
Monsieur  le  Marquis,"  said  M.  Fortunat,  coldly. 

"  Oh !  no  moralizing,  if  you  please." 

"Only  evil  will  come  of  it." 

The  marquis  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  in  a  tone  of 


68  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

bitter  scorn,  retorted :  "  Come,  Mons.  Fortunat,  if  you 
wish  to  lose  the  forty  thousand  francs  you  advanced  to 
me,  it's  easy  enough  to  do  so.  Run  to  Madame  d'Ar- 
geles's  house,  ask  for  M.  de  Coralth,  and  tell  him  I 
countermand  my  order.  My  rival  will  be  saved,  and 
will  marry  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  and  her  millions." 

M.  Fortunat  remained  silent.  He  could  not  tell  the 
marquis :  "  My  forty  thousand  francs  are  lost  already. 
I  know  that  only  too  well.  Mademoiselle  Marguerite 
is  no  longer  the  possessor  of  millions,  and  you  have 
committed  a  useless  crime/'  However,  it  was  this  con- 
viction which  imparted  such  an  accent  of  eagerness  to 
his  words  as  he  continued  to  plead  the  cause  of  virtue 
and  of  honesty.  Would  he  have  said  as  much  if  he  had 
entertained  any  great  hope  of  the  success  of  the  mar- 
quis's matrimonial  enterprise?  It  is  doubtful,  still  we 
must  do  M.  Fortunat  the  justice  to  admit  that  he  was 
really  and  sincerely  horrified  by  what  he  had  unhesi- 
tatingly styled  an  "  infamous  act."  _ 

The  marquis  listened  to  his  agent  for  a  few  moments 
in  silence,  and  then  rose  to  his  feet  again.  "All  this 
is  very  true,"  he  interrupted ;  "  but  I  am,  nevertheless, 
anxious  to  learn  the  result  of  my  little  plot.  For  this 
reason,  Monsieur  Fortunat,  give  me  at  once  the  five 
hundred  louis  you  promised  me,  and  I  will  then  bid  you 
good-evening." 

The  agent  had  been  preparing  himself  for  this  mo- 
ment, and  yet  he  trembled.  "  I  am  deeply  grieved, 
monsieur,"  he  replied,  with  a  doleful  smile ;  "  it  was 
this  matter  that  kept  me  out  so  much  later  than  usual 
this  evening.  I  hoped  to  have  obtained  the  money  from 
a  banker,  who  has  always  accommodated  me  before — 
M.  Prosper  Bertomy,  you  know  him:  he  married  M. 
Andre  Fauvel's  niece " 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  69 

"  Yes,  I  know ;  proceed,  if  you  please." 

"Ah,  well!  it  was  impossible  for  me  to  procure  the 
money/' 

The  marquis  had  hitherto  been  pale,  but  now  his 
face  flushed  crimson.  "  This  is  a  jest,  I  suppose,"  said 
he. 

"  Alas !— unfortunately— no." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence,  which  the  marquis 
probably  spent  in  reflecting  upon  the  probable  conse- 
quences of  this  disappointment,  for  it  was  in  an  al- 
most threatening  tone  that  he  eventually  exclaimed: 
"  You  know  that  I  must  have  this  money  at  once — 
that  I  must  have  it." 

M.  Fortunat  would  certainly  have  preferred  to  lose 
a  good  pound  of  flesh  rather  than  the  sum  of  money 
mentioned;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  he  felt  that  it 
would  not  do  for  him  to  sever  his  connection  with  his 
client  until  the  death  of  the  Count  de  Chalusse  was 
certain;  and  being  anxious  to  save  his  money  and  to 
keep  his  client,  his  embarrassment  was  extreme.  "  It 
was  the  most  unfortunate  thing  in  the  world,"  he 
stammered ;  f(  I  apprehended  no  difficulty  whatever — " 
Then,  suddenly  clapping  his  hand  to  his  forehead,  he 
exclaimed :  "  But,  Monsieur  le  Marquis,  couldn't  you 
borrow  this  amount  from  one  of  your  friends,  the  Duke 
de  Champdoce  or  the  Count  de  Commarin  ? — that  would 
be  a  good  idea." 

M.  de  Valorsay  was  anything  but  unsophisticated, 
and  his  natural  shrewdness  had  been  rendered  much 
more  acute  by  the  difficulties  with  which  he  had  re- 
cently been  obliged  to  contend.  M.  Fortunat's  con- 
fusion had  not  escaped  his  keen  glance;  and  this  last 
suggestion  aroused  his  suspicions  at  once.  "  What !  " 
he  said,  slowly,  and  with  an  air  of  evident  distrust. 


70  THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS 

"  You  give  me  this  advice,  Master  Twenty-per-cent. 
This  is  wonderful !  How  long  is  it  since  your  opinions 
have  undergone  such  a  change  ?  " 

"  My  opinions  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Didn't  you  say  to  me  during  our  first  inter- 
view; 'The  thing  that  will  save  you,  is  that  you  have 
never  in  your  while  life  borrowed  a  louis  from  a  friend. 
An  ordinary  creditor  only  thinks  of  a  large  interest; 
and  if  that  is  paid  him  he  holds  his  peace.  A  friend 
is  never  satisfied  until  everybody  knows  that  he  has 
generously  obliged  you.  It  is  far  better  to  apply  to  a 
usurer/  I  thought  all  that  very  sensible,  and  I  quite 
agreed  with  you  when  you  added :  '  So,  Monsieur  le 
Marquis,  no  borrowing  of  this  kind  until  after  your 
marriage — not  on  any  pretext  whatever.  Go  without 
eating  rather  than  do  it.  Your  credit  is  still  good ;  but 
it  is  being  slowly  undermined — and  the  indiscretion  of 
a  friend  who  chanced  to  say :  "  I  think  Valorsay  is  hard 
up,"  might  fire  the  train,  and  then  you'd  explode.' " 

M.  Fortunat's  embarrassment  was  really  painful  to 
witness.  He  was  not  usually  wanting  in  courage,  but 
the  events  of  the  evening  had  shaken  his  confidence  and 
his  composure.  The  hope  of  gain  and  the  fear  of  loss 
had  deprived  him  of  his  wonted  clearness  of  mind. 
Feeling  that  he  had  just  committed  a  terrible  blunder, 
he  racked  his  brain  to  find  some  way  of  repairing  it, 
and  finding  none,  his  confusion  increased. 

"  Did  you,  or  didn't  you,  use  that  language  ? "  in- 
sisted M.  de  Valorsay.  "What  have  you  to  say  in 
reply?" 

"  Circumstances " 

"  What  circumstances  ?  " 

"Urgent  need — necessity.  There  is  no  rule  without 
its  exceptions.  I  did  not  imagine  you  would  be  so 


THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS  71 

rash.  I  have  advanced  you  forty  thousand  francs  in 
less  than  five  months — it  is  outrageous.  If  I  were  in 
your  place,  I  would  be  more  reasonable — I  would  econ- 


He  paused !  in  fact,  he  was  compelled  to  pause  by  the 
piercing  glance  which  M.  de  Valorsay  turned  upon  him. 
He  was  furious  with  himself.  "  I  am  losing  my  wits/' 
he  thought. 

"  Still  more  wise  counsel/'  remarked  the  ruined  no- 
bleman ironically.  "  While  you  are  about  it,  why  don't 
you  advise  me  to  sell  my  horses  and  carriages,  and 
establish  myself  in  a  garret  in  the  Rue  Amelot?  Such 
a  course  would  seem  very  natural,  wouldn't  it?  and, 
of  course,  it  would  inspire  M.  de  Chalusse  with  bound- 
less confidence ! " 

"  But  without  going  to  such  extremes " 

"  Hold  your  tongue ! "  interrupted  the  marquis,  vio- 
lently. "  Better  than  any  one  else  you  know  that  I 
cannot  retrench,  although  the  reality  no  longer  exists. 
I  am  condemned,  cost  what  it  may,  to  keep  up  appear- 
ances. That  is  my  only  hope  of  salvation.  I  have 
gambled,  given  expensive  suppers,  indulged  in  dissipa- 
tion of  every  kind,  and  I  must  continue  to  do  so.  I 
have  come  to  hate  Ninette  Simplon,  for  whom  I  have 
committed  so  many  acts  of  folly,  and  yet  I  still  keep 
her — to  show  that  I  am  rolling  in  wealth.  I  have 
thrown  thousand-franc  notes  out  of  the  window,  and  I 
mustn't  stop  throwing  them.  Indeed,  what  would  peo- 
ple say  if  I  stopped!  Why,  ( Valorsay  is  a  ruined 
man ! '  Then,  farewell  to  my  hopes  of  marrying  an 
heiress.  And  so  I  am  always  gay  and  smiling;  that  is 
part  of  my  role.  What  would  my  servants — the  twenty 
spies  that  I  pay — what  would  they  think  if  they  saw  me 
thoughtful  or  disturbed?  You  would  scarcely  believe 


/2  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

it,  M.  Fortunat,  but  I  have  positively  been  reduced  to 
dining  on  credit  at  my  club,,  because  I  had  paid,  that 
morning,  for  a  month's  provender  for  my  horses !  It 
is  true  I  have  many  valuable  articles  in  my  house,  but 
I  cannot  dispose  of  them.  People  would  recognize 
them  at  once;  besides,  they  form  a  part  of  my  stock- 
in-trade.  An  actor  doesn't  sell  his  costumes  because 
he's  hungry — he  goes  without  food — and  when  it's 
time  for  the  curtain  to  rise,  he  dons  his  satin  and  vel- 
vet garments,  and,  despite  his  empty  stomach,  he  chants 
the  praises  of  a  bountiful  table  and  rare  old  wine. 
That  is  what  I  am  doing — I,  Robert  Dalbou,  Marquis 
de  Valorsay !  At  the  races  at  Vincennes,  about  a  fort- 
night ago,  I  was  bowling  along  the  boulevard  behind 
my  four-in-hand,  when  I  heard  a  laborer  say,  e  How 
happy  those  rich  people  must  be ! '  Happy,  indeed ! 
Why,  I  envied  him  his  lot.  He  was  sure  that  the  mor- 
row would  be  like  the  day  that  preceded  it.  On  that 
occasion  my  entire  fortune  consisted  of  a  single  louis, 
which  I  had  won  at  baccarat  the  evening  before.  As  I 
entered  the  enclosure,  Isabelle,  the  flower-girl,  handed 
me  a  rose  for  my  button-hole.  I  gave  her  my  louic— 
but  I  longed  to  strangle  her ! " 

He  paused  for  a  moment,  and  then,  in  a  frenzy  of 
passion,  he  advanced  toward  M.  Fortunat,  who  instinc- 
tively retreated  into  the  protecting  embrasure  of  a  win- 
dow. "And  for  eight  months  I  have  lived  this  horri- 
ble life  !  "  he  resumed.  "  For  eight  months  each  mo- 
ment has  been  so  much  torture.  Ah!  better  poverty, 
prison,  and  shame !  And  now,  when  the  prize  is  almost 
won,  actuated  either  by  treason  or  caprice,  you  try  to 
make  all  my  toil  and  all  my  suffering  unavailing.  You 
try  to  thwart  me  on  the  very  threshold  of  success  !  No ! 
I  swear,  by  God's  sacred  name,  it  shall  not  be !  I  will 


THE   COUNTS   MILLIONS  73 

rather  crush  you,  you  miserable  scoundrel — crush  you 
like  a  venomous  reptile !  " 

There  was  such  a  ring  of  fury  in  his  voice  that  the 
crystals  of  the  candelabra  vibrated ;  and  Madame  Dode- 
lin,  in  her  kitchen,  heard  it,  and  shuddered.  "  Some 
one  will  certainly  do  M.  Fortunat  an  injury  one  of 
these  days/7  she  thought. 

It  was  not  by  any  means  the  first  time  that  M.  For- 
tunat had  found  himself  at  variance  with  clients  of  a 
sanguine  temperament ;  but  he  had  always  escaped  safe 
and  sound,  so  that,  after  all,  he  was  not  particularly 
alarmed  in  the  present  instance,  as  was  proved  by  the 
fact  that  he  was  still  calm  enough  to  reflect  and  plan. 
"  In  forty-eight  hours  I  shall  be  certain  of  the  count's 
fate/'  he  thought ;  "  he  will  be  dead,  or  he  will  be  in  a 
fair  way  to  recovery — so  by  promising  to  give  this 
frenzied  man  what  he  desires  on  the  day  after  to- 
morrow, I  shall  incur  no  risk." 

Taking  advantage  of  an  opportunity  which  M.  de 
Valorsay  furnished,  on  pausing  to  draw  breath,  he 
hastily  exclaimed,  "  Really,  Monsieur  le  Marquis,  I 
cannot  understand  your  anger." 

"  What !  scoundrel !  " 

"  Excuse  me.  Before  insulting  me,  permit  me  to  ex- 
plain  » 

"  No  explanation — five  hundred  louis  !  " 
"  Have  the  kindness  to  allow  me  to  finish.  Yes,  I 
know  that  you  are  in  urgent  need  of  money — not  by- 
and-by,  but  now.  To-day  I  was  unable  to  procure  it, 
nor  can  I  promise  it  to-morrow;  but  on  the  day  after 
to-morrow,  Saturday,  I  shall  certainly  have  it  ready  for 
you." 

The  marquis  seemed  to  be  trying  to  read  his  agent's 
very  soul.  "  Are  you  in  earnest  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Show 


74  THE   COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

your  hand.  If  you  don't  intend  to  help  me  out  of  my 
embarrassment,  say  so." 

"  Ah,  Monsieur  le  Marquis,  am  I  not  as  much  inter- 
ested in  your  success  as  you  yourself  can  be?  Have 
you  not  received  abundant  proofs  of  my  devotion  ?  " 

"  Then  I  can  rely  upon  you." 

"  Absolutely."  And  seeing  a  lingering  doubt  in  his 
client's  eyes,  M.  Fortunat  added,  "  You  have  my  word 
of  honor ! " 

The  clock  struck  three.  The  marquis  took  his  hat 
and  started  toward  the  door.  But  M.  Fortunat,  in 
whose  heart  the  word  scoundrel  was  still  rankling, 
stopped  him.  "  Are  you  going  to  that  lady's  house 
now?  What  is  she  called?  I've  forgotten  her  name. 
Ah,  yes,  I  remember  now.  Madame  d'Argeles,  isn't 
she  called  ?  It's  at  her  place,  I  believe,  that  the  reputa- 
tion of  Mademoiselle  Marguerite's  favored  lover  is  to 
be  ruined." 

The  marquis  turned  angrily.  "What  do  you  take 
me  for,  Master  Twenty-per-cent  ? "  he  rudely  asked. 
"That  is  one  of  those  things  no  well-bred  gentleman 
will  do  himself.  But  in  Paris  people  can  be  found  to 
do  any  kind  of  dirty  work,  if  you  are  willing  to  pay 
them  for  it." 

"  Then  how  will  you  know  the  result  ?  " 

"Why,  twenty  minutes  after  the  affair  is  over,  M. 
de  Coralth  will  be  at  my  house.  He  is  there  even  now, 
perhaps."  And  as  this  subject  was  anything  but  pleas- 
ant, he  hastened  away,  exclaiming,  "  Get  to  bed,  my 
dear  extortioner.  Au  revoir.  And,  above  all,  remem- 
ber your  promise." 

"  My  respects,  Monsieur  le  Marquis." 

But  when  the  door  closed,  M.  Fortunat's  expression 
immediately  changed.  "  Ah !  you  insult  me !  "  he  mut- 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  75 

tered  sullenly.  "  You  rob  me,  and  you  call  me  a  scoun- 
drel into  the  bargain.  You  shall  pay  dearly  for  it,  my 
fine  fellow,  no  matter  what  may  happen ! " 

IV. 

IT  is  in  vain  that  the  law  has  endeavored  to  shield 
private  life  from  prying  eyes.  The  scribes  who  pander 
to  Parisian  curiosity  surmount  all  obstacles  and  brave 
every  danger.  Thanks  to  the  "  High  Life  "  reporters, 
every  newspaper  reader  is  aware  that  twice  a  week 
— Mondays  and  Thursdays — Madame  Lia  d'Argeles 
holds  a  reception  at  her  charming  mansion  in  the  Rue 
de  Berry.  Her  guests  find  plenty  of  amusement  there. 
They  seldom  dance;  but  card-playing  begins  at  mid- 
night, and  a  dainty  supper  is  served  before  the  de- 
parture of  the  guests. 

It  was  on  leaving  one  of  these  little  entertainments 
that  that  unfortunate  young  man,  Jules  Chazel,  a  cash- 
ier in  a  large  banking-house,  committed  suicide  by  blow- 
ing out  his  brains.  The  brilliant  frequenters  of  Madame 
d'Argeles's  entertainments  considered  this  act  proof 
of  exceeding  bad  taste  and  deplorable  weakness  on  his 
part.  "The  fellow  was  a  coward,"  they  declared. 
"  Why,  he  had  lost  hardly  a  thousand  louis ! " 

He  had  lost  only  that,  it  is  true — a  mere  trifle  as 
times  go.  Only  the  money  was  not  his ;  he  had  taken 
it  from  the  safe  which  was  confided  to  his  keeping, 
expecting,  probably,  to  double  the  amount  in  a  single 
night.  In  the  morning,  when  he  found  himself  alone, 
without  a  penny,  and  the  deficit  staring  him  in  the  face, 
the  voice  of  conscience  cried,  "  You  are  a  thief ! "  and 
he  lost  his  reason. 

The  event  created  a  great  sensation  at  the  time,  and 


76  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

the  Petit  Journal  published  a  curious  story  concerning 
this  unfortunate  young  man's  mother.  The  poor  woman 
— she  was  a  widow — sold  all  she  possessed,  even  the 
bed  on  which  she  slept,  and  when  she  had  succeeded  in 
gathering  together  twenty  thousand  francs — the  ransom 
of  her  son's  honor — she  carried  them  to  the  banker  by 
whom  her  boy  had  been  employed.  He  took  them, 
without  even  asking  the  mother  if  she  had  enough  left 
to  purchase  her  dinner  that  evening;  and  the  fine  gen- 
tleman, who  had  won  and  pocketed  Jules  Chazel's  stolen 
gold,  thought  the  banker's  conduct  perfectly  natural 
and  just.  It  is  true  that  Madame  d'Argeles  was  in  de- 
spair during  forty-eight  hours  or  so;  for  the  police 
had  begun  a  sort  of  investigation,  and  she  feared  this 
might  frighten  her  visitors  and  empty  her  drawing- 
rooms.  Not  at  all,  however;  on  the  contrary,  she  had 
good  cause  to  congratulate  herself  upon  the  notoriety 
she  gained  through  this  suicide.  For  five  days  she  was 
the  talk  of  Paris,  and  Alfred  d'Aunay  even  published 
her  portrait  in  the  Illustrated  Chronicle. 

Still,  no  one  was  able  to  say  exactly  who  Madame 
Lia  d'Argeles  was.  Who  was  she,  and  whence  did  she 
come?  How  had  she  lived  until  she  sprang  up,  full 
grown,  in  the  sunshine  of  the  fashionable  world?  Did 
the  splendid  mansion  in  the  Rue  de  Berry  really  be- 
long to  her?  Was  she  as  rich  as  she  was  supposed  to 
be?  Where  had  she  acquired  such  manners,  the  man- 
ners of  a  thorough  woman  of  the  world,  with  her  many 
accomplishments,  as  well  as  her  remarkable  skill  as  a 
musician?  Everything  connected  with  her  was  a  sub- 
ject of  conjecture,  even  to  the  name  inscribed  upon  her 
visiting  cards — "  Lia  d'Argeles." 

But  no  matter.  Her  house  was  always  filled  to  over- 
flowing; and  at  the  very  moment  when  the  Marquis  de 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  77 

Valorsay  and  M.  Fortunat  were  speaking  of  her,  a 
dozen  coroneted  carriages  stood  before  her  door,  and 
her  rooms  were  thronged  with  guests.  It  was  a  little 
past  midnight,  and  the  bi-weekly  card  party  had  just 
been  made  up,  when  a  footman  announced,  "  Monsieur 
le  Vicomte  de  Coralth!  Monsieur  Pascal  Ferail- 
leur!" 

Few  of  the  players  deigned  to  raise  their  heads.  But 
one  man  growled,  "  Good — two  more  players !  "  And 
four  or  five  young  men  exclaimed,  "  Ah !  here's  Ferdi- 
nand !  Good  evening,  my  dear  fellow ! " 

M.  de  Coralth  was  very  young  and  remarkably  good- 
looking,  almost  too  good-looking,  indeed ;  for  his  hand- 
someness was  somewhat  startling  and  unnatural.  He. 
had  an  exceedingly  fair  complexion,  and  large,  melting 
black  eyes,  while  a  woman  might  have  envied  him  his 
wavy  brown  hair  and  the  exquisite  delicacy  of  his  skin. 
He  dressed  with  great  care  and  taste,  and  even  coquet- 
tishly;  his  turn-down  collar  left  his  firm  white  throat 
uncovered,  and  his  rose-tinted  gloves  fitted  as  perfectly 
as  the  skin  upon  his  soft,  delicate  hands.  He  bowed 
familiarly  on  entering,  and  with  a  rather  complacent 
smile  on  his  lips,  he  approached  Madame  d'Argeles, 
who,  half  reclining  in  an  easy  chair  near  the  fire-place, 
was  conversing  with  two  elderly  gentlemen  of  grave 
and  distinguished  bearing.  "  How  late  you  are,  vis- 
count," she  remarked  carelessly.  "  What  have  you 
been  doing  to-day?  I  fancied  I  saw  you  in  the  Bois, 
in  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay's  dog-cart/' 

A  slight  flush  suffused  M.  de  Coralth's  cheeks,  and 
to  hide  it,  perhaps,  he  turned  toward  the  visitor  who 
had  entered  with  him,  and  drew  him  toward  Madame 
d'Argeles,  saying,  "  Allow  me,  madame,  to  present  to 
you  one  of  my  great  friends,  M.  Pascal  Ferailleur,  aa 


78  THE   COUNTS    MILLIONS 

advocate  whose  name  will  be  known  to  fame  some 
day/' 

"  Your  friends  are  always  welcome  at  my  house,  my 
dear  viscount/5  replied  Madame  d'Argeles.  And  be- 
fore Pascal  had  concluded  his  bow,  she  averted  her 
head,  and  resumed  her  interrupted  conversation. 

The  new-comer,  however,  was  worthy  of  more  than 
that  cursory  notice.  He  was  a  young  man  of  five  or 
six-and-twenty,  dark-complexioned  and  tall ;  each  move- 
ment of  his  person  was  imbued  with  that  natural  grace 
which  is  the  result  of  perfect  harmony  of  the  muscles, 
and  of  more  than  common  vigor.  His  features  were 
irregular,  but  they  gave  evidence  of  energy,  kindness 
of  heart,  and  honesty  of  purpose.  A  man  possessing 
such  a  proud,  intelligent,  and  open  brow,  such  a  clear, 
straightforward  gaze,  and  such  finely-cut  lips,  could  be 
no  ordinary  one.  Deserted  by  his  sponsor,  who  was 
shaking  hands  right  and  left,  he  seated  himself  on  a 
sofa  a  little  in  the  background;  not  because  he  was 
embarrassed,  but  because  he  felt  that  instinctive  dis- 
trust of  self  which  frequently  seizes  hold  of  a  person 
on  entering  a  crowd  of  strangers.  He  did  his  best  to 
conceal  his  curiosity,  but  nevertheless  he  looked  and 
listened  with  all  his  might. 

The  salon  was  an  immense  apartment,  divided  into 
two  rooms  by  sliding  doors  and  hangings.  When 
Madame  d'Argeles  gave  a  ball,  the  rooms  were  thrown 
into  one ;  but,  as  a  general  rule,  one  room  was  occupied 
by  the  card-players,  and  the  other  served  as  a  refuge 
for  those  who  wished  to  chat.  The  card-room,  into 
which  Pascal  had  been  ushered,  was  an  apartment  of 
noble  proportions,  furnished  in  a  style  of  tasteful  mag- 
nificence. The  tints  of  the  carpet  were  subdued;  there 
was  not  too  much  gilding  on  the  cornices;  the  clock 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  79 

upon  the  mantel-shelf  was  chaste  and  elegant  in  de- 
sign. The  only  thing  at  all  peculiar  about  the  room 
and  its  appointments  was  a  reflector,  ingeniously  ar- 
ranged above  the  chandelier  in  such  a  way  as  to  throw 
the  full  glare  of  the  candles  upon  the  card-table  which 
stood  directly  beneath  it.  The  table  itself  was  adorned 
with  a  rich  tapestry  cover,  but  this  was  visible  only 
at  the  corners,  for  it  was  covered,  in  turn,  with  a  green 
baize  cloth  considerably  the  worse  for  wear.  Madame 
d'Argeles's  guests  were  probably  not  over  fifty  in  num- 
ber, but  they  all  seemed  to  belong  to  the  very  best 
society.  The  majority  of  them  were  men  of  forty 
or  thereabouts ;  several  wore  decorations,  and  two  or 
three  of  the  eldest  were  treated  with  marked  deference. 
Certain  well-known  names  which  Pascal  overheard  sur- 
prised him  greatly.  "  What !  these  men  here  ?  "  he  said 
to  himself ;  "  and  I — I  regarded  my  visit  as  a  sort  of 
clandestine  frolic." 

There  were  only  seven  or  eight  ladies  present,  none 
of  them  being  especially  attractive.  Their  toilettes 
were  very  costly,  but  in  rather  doubtful  taste,  and  they 
wore  a  profusion  of  diamonds.  Pascal  noticed  that 
these  ladies  were  treated  with  perfect  indifference,  and 
that,  whenever  the  gentlemen  spoke  to  them,  they  as- 
sumed an  air  of  politeness  which  was  too  exaggerated 
not  to  be  ironical. 

A  score  of  persons  were  seated  at  the  card-table,  and 
the  guests  who  had  retired  into  the  adjoining  salon 
were  silently  watching  the  progress  of  the  game,  or 
quietly  chatting  in  the  corners  of  the  room.  It  sur- 
prised him  to  note  that  every  one  spoke  in  very  low 
tones ;  there  was  something  very  like  respect,  even  awe, 
in  this  subdued  murmur.  One  might  have  supposed 
that  those  present  were  celebrating  the  rites  of  some 


80  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

mysterious  worship.  And  is  not  gaming  a  species  of 
idolatry,  symbolized  by  cards,  and  which  has  its 
images,  its  fetishes,  its  miracles,  its  fanatics,  and  its 
martyrs  ? 

Occasionally,  above  the  accompaniment  of  whispers, 
rose  the  strange  and  incoherent  exclamations  of  the 
players  :  "  Here  are  twenty  louis !  I  take  it — I  pass ! 
The  play  is  made !  Banco  I " 

"  What  a  strange  gathering !  "  thought  Pascal  Ferail- 
leur.  "  What  singular  people !  "  And  he  turned  his 
attention  to  the  mistress  of  the  house,  as  if  he  hoped  to 
decipher  the  solution  of  the  enigma  on  her  face. 

But  Madame  Lia  d'Argeles  defied  all  analysis.  She 
was  one  of  those  women  whose  uncertain  age  varies 
according  to  their  mood,  between  the  thirties  and  the 
fifties ;  one  who  did  not  look  over  thirty  in  the  evening, 
but  who  would  have  been  charged  with  being  more 
than  fifty  the  next  morning.  In  her  youth  she  must 
-have  been  very  beautiful,  and  she  was  still  good-look- 
ing, though  she  had  grown  somewhat  stout,  and  her 
face  had  become  a  trifle  heavy,  thus  marring  the  sym- 
metry of  her  very  delicate  features.  A  perfect  blonde, 
she  had  eyes  of  so  clear  a  blue  that  they  seemed  almost 
faded.  The  whiteness  of  her  skin  was  so  unnatural 
that  it  almost  startled  one.  It  was  the  dull,  lifeless 
white  which  suggests  an  excessive  use  of  cosmetics  and 
rice  powder,  and  long  baths,  late  hours,  and  sleep  at 
day-time,  in  a  darkened  room.  Her  face  was  utterly 
devoid  of  expression.  One  might  have  fancied  that  its 
muscles  had  become  relaxed  after  terrible  efforts  to 
feign  or  to  conceal  some  violent  emotions;  and  there 
was  something  melancholy,  almost  terrifying  in  the 
eternal,  and  perhaps  involuntary  smile,  which  curved 
her  lips.  She  wore  a  dress  of  black  velvet,  with 


THE   COUNTS   MILLIONS  81 

slashed  sleeves  and  bodice,  a  new  design  of  the  famous 
man-milliner,  Van  Klopen. 

Pascal  was  engaged  in  these  observations  when  M.  de 
Coralth,  having  made  his  round,  came  and  sat  down 
on  the  sofa  beside  him.  "  Well,  what  do  you  think  of 
it?  "  he  inquired. 

"  Upon  my  word ! "  replied  the  young  advocate,  "  I 
am  infinitely  obliged  to  you  for  inviting  me  to  accom- 
pany you  here.  I  am  intensely  amused." 

"  Good !     My  philosopher  is  captivated." 

"  Not  captivated,  but  interested,  I  confess."  Then, 
in  the  tone  of  good-humor  which  was  habitual  to  him, 
he  added :  "  As  for  being  the  sage  you  call  me,  that's 
all  nonsense.  And  to  prove  it,  I'm  going  to  risk  my 
louis  with  the  rest." 

M.  de  Coralth  seemed  amazed,  but  a  close  observer 
might  have  detected  a  gleam  of  triumph  in  his  eyes. 
"  You  are  going  to  play — you  ?  " 

"Yes.     Why  not?" 

"  Take  care  !  " 

"  Of  what,  pray  ?  The  worst  I  can  do  is  to  lose  what 
I  have  in  my  pocket — something  over  two  hundred 
francs." 

The  viscount  shook  his  head  thoughtfully.  "  It  isn't 
that  which  one  has  cause  to  fear.  The  devil  always  has 
a  hand  in  this  business,  and  the  first  time  a  man  plays 
he's  sure  to  win." 

"And  is  that  a  misfortune?" 

"  Yes,  because  the  recollection  of  these  first  winnings 
is  sure  to  lure  you  back  to  the  gaming-table  again. 
You  go  back,  you  lose,  you  try  to  recover  your  money, 
and  that's  the  end  of  it — you  become  a  gambler." 

Pascal  Ferailleur's  smile  was  the  smile  of  a  man 
who  has  full  confidence  in  himself.  "  My  brain  is  not 


82  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

so  easily  turned,  I  hope/'  said  he.  "  I  have  the  thought 
of  my  name,  and  the  fortune  I  must  make,  as  ballast 
for  it" 

"  I  beseech  you  not  to  play/'  insisted  the  viscount. 
"  Listen  to  me ;  you  don't  know  what  this  passion  for 
play  is;  the  strongest  and  the  coldest  natures  succumb 
—don't  play." 

He  had  raised  his  voice,  as  if  he  intended  to  be  over- 
heard by  two  guests  who  had  just  approached  the  sofa. 
They  did  indeed  hear  him.  "  Can  I  believe  my  own 
eyes  and  ears ! "  exclaimed  one  of  them,  an  elderly 
man.  "  Can  this  really  be  Ferdinand  who  is  trying  to 
shake  the  allegiance  of  the  votaries  of  our  noble  lady 
—the  Queen  of  Spades?" 

M.  de  Coralth  turned  quickly  round:  "Yes,  it  is 
indeed  I/'  he  answered.  "  I  have  purchased  with  my 
patrimony  the  right  of  saying :  '  Distrust  yourself,  and 
don't  do  as  I've  done/  to  an  inexperienced  friend-" 

The  wisest  counsels,  given  in  a  certain  fashion,  never 
fail  to  produce  an  effect  diametrically  opposed  to  that 
which  they  seemingly  aim  at.  M.  de  Coralth's  per- 
sistence, and  the  importance  he  attached  to  a  mere 
trifle,  could  not  fail  to  annoy  the  most  patient  man  in 
the  world,  and  in  fact  his  patronizing  tone  really  irri- 
tated Pascal.  "  You  are  free,  my  friend,  to  do  as  you 
please,"  said  he;  "but  I— 

"  Are  you  resolved  ?  "  interrupted  the  viscount. 

"  Absolutely." 

"  So  be  it,  then.  You  are  no  longer  a  child,  and  I 
have  warned  you.  Let  us  play,  then."  Thereupon  they 
approached  the  table;  room  was  made  for  them,  and 
they  seated  themselves,  Pascal  being  on  M.  Ferdinand 
de  Coralth's  right-hand  side. 

The  guests   were  playing  "  Baccarat   tournant,"   a 


•    THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS  83 

game  of  terrible  and  infantile  simplicity.  There  are  no 
such  things  as  skill  or  combination  possible  in  it; 
science  and  calculation  are  useless.  Chance  alone  de- 
cides, and  decides  with  the  rapidity  of  lightning.  Ama- 
teurs certainly  assert  that,  with  great  coolness  and  long 
practice,  one  can,  in  a  measure  at  least,  avert  prolonged 
ill-luck.  Maybe  they  are  right,  but  it  is  not  con- 
clusively proved.  Each  person  takes  the  cards  in  his 
turn,  risks  what  he  chooses,  and  when  his  stakes  are 
covered,  deals.  If  he  wins,  he  is  free  to  follow  up  his 
vein  of  good-luck,  or  to  pass  the  deal.  When  he  loses, 
the  deal  passes  at  once  to  the  next  player  on  the  right. 

A  moment  sufficed  for  Pascal  Ferailleur  to  learn  the 
rules  of  the  game.  It  was  already  Ferdinand's  deal. 
M.  de  Coralth  staked  a  hundred  francs;  the  bet  was 
taken;  he  dealt,  lost,  and  handed  the  cards  to  Pascal. 

The  play,  which  had  been  rather  timid  at  first — since 
it  was  necessary,  as  they  say,  to  try  the  luck — had 
now  become  bolder.  Several  players  had  large  piles 
of  gold  before  them,  and  the  heavy  artillery — that  is 
to  say,  bank-notes — were  beginning  to  put  in  appear- 
ance. But  Pascal  had  no  false  pride.  "  I  stake  a 
louis  !  "  said  he. 

The  smallness  of  the  sum  attracted  instant  attention, 
and  two  or  three  voices  replied :  "  Taken !  " 

He  dealt,  and  won.  "  Two  louis ! "  he  said  again. 
This  wager  was  also  taken ;  he  won,  and  his  run  of  luck 
was  so  remarkable  that,  in  a  wonderfully  short  space 
of  time,  he  won  six  hundred  francs. 

"  Pass  the  deal,"  whispered  Ferdinand,  and  Pascal 
followed  this  advice.  "  Not  because  I  desire  to  keep 
my  winnings,"  he  whispered  in  M.  de  Coralth's  ear, 
"but  because  I  wish  to  have  enough  to  play  until  the 
end  of  the  evening  without  risking  anything." 


84  THE   COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

But  such  prudence  was  unnecessary  so  far  as  he  was 
concerned.  When  the  deal  came  to  him  again,  fortune 
favored  him  even  more  than  before.  He  started  with 
a  hundred  francs,  and  doubling  them  each  time  in  six 
successive  deals,  he  won  more  than  three  thousand 
francs. 

"  The  devil !  Monsieur  is  in  luck."—"  Zounds !  And 
he  is  playing  for  the  first  time." — "That  accounts  for 
it.  The  inexperienced  always  win." 

Pascal  could  not  fail  to  hear  these  comments.  The 
blood  mantled  over  his  cheeks,  and,  conscious  that  he 
was  flushing,  he,  as  usually  happens,  flushed  still  more. 
His  good  fortune  embarrassed  him,  as  was  evident,  and 
he  played  most  recklessly.  Still  his  good  luck  did  not 
desert  him;  and  do  what  he  would  he  won — won  con- 
tinually. In  fact,  by  four  o'clock  in  the  morning  he 
had  thirty-five  thousand  francs  before  him. 

For  some  time  he  had  been  the  object  of  close  atten- 
tion. "  Do  you  know  this  gentleman  ?  "  inquired  one 
of  the  guests. 

"No.     He  came  with  Coralth." 

"  He  is  an  advocate,  I  understand." 

And  all  these  whispered  doubts  and  suspicions,  these 
questions  fraught  with  an  evil  significance,  these  un- 
charitable replies,  grew  into  a  malevolent  murmur, 
which  resounded  in  Pascal's  ears  and  bewildered  him. 
He  was  really  becoming  most  uncomfortable,  when 
Madame  d'Argeles  approached  the  card-table  and  ex- 
claimed :  "  This  is  the  third  time,  gentlemen,  that  you 
hare  been  told  that  supper  is  ready.  What  gentleman 
will  offer  me  his  arm  ?  " 

There  was  an  evident  unwillingness  to  leave  the 
table,  but  an  old  gentleman  who  had  been  losing 
heavily  rose  to  his  feet.  "Yes,  let  us  go  to  sup- 


THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS  85 

per!"  he  exclaimed;  " perhaps  that  will  change  the 
luck." 

This  was  a  decisive  consideration.  The  room  emptied 
as  if  by  magic;  and  no  one  was  left  at  the  table  but 
Pascal,  who  scarcely  knew  what  to  do  with  all  the  gold 
piled  up  before  him.  He  succeeded,  however,  in  distrib- 
uting it  in  his  pockets,  and  was  about  to  join  the  other 
guests  in  the  dining-room,  when  Madame  d'Argeles 
abruptly  barred  his  passage. 

"  I  desire  a  word  with  you,  monsieur,"  she  said.  Her 
face  still  retained  its  strange  immobility,  and  the  same 
stereotyped  smile  played  about  her  lips.  And  yet  her 
agitation  was  so  evident  that  Pascal,  in  spite  of  his  own 
uneasiness,  noticed  it,  and  was  astonished  by  it. 

"  I  am  at  your  service,  madame,"  he  stammered, 
bowing. 

She  at  once  took  his  arm,  and  led  him  to  the  em- 
brasure of  a  window.  "  I  am  a  stranger  to  you,  mon- 
sieur," she  said,  very  hurriedly,  and  in  very  low  tones, 
"  and  yet  I  must  ask,  and  you  must  grant  me,  a  great 
favor." 

"  Speak,  madame." 

She  hesitated,  as  if  at  a  loss  for  words,  and  then  all 
of  a  sudden  she  said,  eagerly:  "You  will  leave  this 
house  at  once,  without  warning  any  one,  and  while  the 
other  guests  are  at  supper." 

Pascal's  astonishment  changed  into  stupor. 

"Why  am  I  to  go?"  he  asked. 

"  Because — but,  no ;  I  cannot  tell  you.  Consider  it 
only  a  caprice  on  my  part — it  is  so;  but  I  entreat  you, 
don't  refuse  me.  Do  me  this  favor,  and  I  shall  be 
eternally  grateful." 

There  was  such  an  agony  of  supplication  in  her  voice 
and  her  attitude,  that  Pascal  was  touched.  A  vague 


86  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

presentiment  of  some  terrible,  irreparable  misfortune 
disturbed  his  own  heart.  Nevertheless,  he  sadly  shook 
his  head,  and  bitterly  exclaimed :  "  You  are,  perhaps, 
not  aware  that  I  have  just  won  over  thirty  thousand 
francs." 

"Yes,  I  am  aware  of  it.  And  this  is  only  another, 
and  still  stronger  reason  why  you  should  protect  your- 
self against  possible  loss.  It  is  well  to  pattern  after 
Charlemagne*  in  this  house.  The  other  night,  the 
Count  d'Antas  quietly  made  his  escape  bareheaded.  He 
took  a  thousand  louis  away  with  him,  and  left  his  hat 
in  exchange.  The  count  is  a  brave  man ;  and  far  from 
indulging  in  blame,  every  one  applauded  him  the  next 
day.  Come,  you  have  decided,  I  see — you  will  go ;  and 
to  be  still  more  safe,  I  will  show  you  out  through  the 
servants'  hall,  then  no  one  can  possibly  see  you." 

Pascal  had  almost  decided  to  yield  to  her  entreaties; 
but  this  proposed  retreat  through  the  back-door  was  too 
revolting  to  his  pride  to  be  thought  of  for  a  moment. 
"  I  will  never  consent  to  such  a  thing,"  he  declared. 
"  What  would  they  think  of  me  ?  Besides  I  owe  them 
their  reverfge  and  I  shall  give  it  to  them." 

Neither  Madame  d'Argeles  nor  Pascal  had  noticed 
M.  de  Coralth,  who  in  the  meantime  had  stolen  into 
the  room  on  tiptoe,  and  had  been  listening  to  their 
conversation,  concealed  behind  the  folds  of  a  heavy 
curtain.  He  now  suddenly  revealed  his  presence.  "  Ah ! 
my  dear  friend,"  he  exclaimed,  in  a  winning  tone. 
"  While  I  honor  your  scruples,  I  must  say  that  I  think 
madame  is  a  hundred  times  right.  If  I  were  in  your 

*French  gamblers  use  this  expression  which  they  explain 
by  the  fact  that  Charlemagne  departed  this  life  with  all  his 
possessions  intact,  having  always  added  to  his  dominions 
without  ever  experiencing  a  loss.  Historically  this  is  no  doubt 
incorrect,  but  none  the  less,  the  expression  prevails  in 
France. — [TRANS.] 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  87 

place,  if  I  had  won  what  you  have  won,  I  shouldn't 
hesitate.  Others  might  think  what  they  pleased;  you 
have  the  money,  that  is  the  main  thing." 

For  the  second  time,  the  viscount's  intervention  de- 
cided Pascal.  "  I  shall  remain,"  he  said,  resolutely. 

But  Madame  d'Argeles  laid  her  hand  imploringly  on 
his  arm.  "  I  entreat  you,  monsieur,"  said  she.  "  Go 
now,  there  is  still  time " 

"  Yes,  go,"  said  the  viscount,  approvingly,  "  it  would 
be  a  most  excellent  move.  Retreat  and  save  the 
cash." 

These  words  were  like  the  drop  which  makes  the  cup 
overflow.  Crimson  with  anger  and  assailed  by  the 
strangest  suspicions,  Pascal  turned  from  Madame 
d'Argeles  and  hastened  into  the  dining-room.  The 
conversation  ceased  entirely  on  his  arrival  there.  He 
could  not  fail  to  understand  that  he  had  been  the  sub- 
ject of  it.  A  secret  instinct  warned  him  that  all  the 
men  around  him  were  his  enemies — though  he  knew 
not  why — and  that  they  were  plotting  against  him. 
He  also  perceived  that  his  slightest  movements  were 
watched  and  commented  upon.  However  he  was  a 
brave  man;  his  conscience  did  not  reproach  him  in  the 
least,  and  he  was  one  of  those  persons  who,  rather  than 
wait  for  danger,  provoke  it. 

So,  with  an  almost  defiant  air,  he  seated  himself 
beside  a  young  lady  dressed  in  pink  tulle,  and  began 
to  laugh  and  chat  with  her.  He  possessed  a  ready  wit, 
and  what  is  even  better,  tact;  and  for  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  astonished  those  around  him  by  his  brilliant 
sallies.  Champagne  was  flowing  freely;  and  he  drank 
four  or  five  glasses  in  quick  succession.  Was  he  really 
conscious  of  what  he  was  doing  and  saying?  He  sub- 
sequently declared  that  he  was  not,  that  he  acted  under 


88  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

the  influence  of  a  sort  of  hallucination  similar  to  that 
produced  by  the  inhalation  of  carbonic  gas. 

However,  the  guests  did  not  linger  long  at  the  sup- 
per-table. "  Let  us  go  back !  "  cried  the  old  gentleman, 
who  had  insisted  upon  the  suspension  of  the  game; 
"  we  are  wasting  a  deal  of  precious  time  here !  " 

Pascal  rose  with  the  others,  and  in  his  haste  to  enter 
the  adjoining  room  he  jostled  two  men  who  were  talk- 
ing together  near  the  door.  "  So  it  is  understood," 
said  one  of  them. 

"  Yes,  yes,  leave  it  to  me ;  I  will  act  as  executioner." 

This  word  sent  all  Pascal's  blood  bounding  to  his 
heart.  "Who  is  to  be  executed?"  he  thought.  "I 
am  evidently  to  be  the  victim.  But  what  does  it  all 
mean  ?  " 

Meanwhile  the  players  at  the  green  table  had  changed 
places,  and  Pascal  found  himself  seated  not  on  Ferdi- 
nand's right,  but  directly  opposite  him,  and  between 
two  men  about  his  own  age — one  of  them  being  the 
person  who  had  announced  his  intention  of  acting  as 
executioner.  All  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  unfortunate 
advocate  when  it  came  his  turn  to  deal.  He  staked  two 
hundred  louis,  and  lost  them.  There  was  a  slight  com- 
motion round  the  table ;  and  one  of  the  players  who  had 
lost  most  heavily,  remarked  in  an  undertone :  "  Don't 
look  so  hard  at  the  gentleman — he  won't  have  any  more 
luck." 

As  Pascal  heard  this  ironical  remark,  uttered  in  a 
tone  which  made  it  as  insulting  as  a  blow,  a  gleam  of 
light  darted  through  his  puzzled  brain.  He  suspected 
at  last,  what  any  person  less  honest  than  himself  would 
have  long  before  understood.  He  thought  of  rising 
and  demanding  an  apology:  but  he  was  stunned,  al- 
most overcome  by  the  horrors  of  his  situation.  His 


THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS  89 

ears  tingled,  and  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  the  beating  of 
his  heart  were  suspended. 

However  the  game  proceeded;  but  no  one  paid  any 
attention  to  it.  The  stakes  were  insignificant,  and  loss 
or  gain  drew  no  exclamation  from  any  one.  The  at- 
tention of  the  entire  party  was  concentrated  on  Pascal ; 
and  he,  with  despair  in  his  heart,  followed  the  move- 
ments of  the  cards,  which  were  passing  from  hand  to 
hand.,  and  fast  approaching  him  again.  When  they 
reached  him  the  silence  became  breathless,  menacing, 
even  sinister.  The  ladies,  and  the  guests  who  were  not 
playing,  approached  and  leaned  over  the  table  in  evi- 
dent anxiety.  "  My  God !  "  thought  Pascal,  "  my  God, 
if  I  can  only  lose ! " 

He  was  as  pale  as  death;  the  perspiration  trickled 
down  from  his  hair  upon  his  temples,  and  his  hands 
trembled  so  much  that  he  could  scarcely  hold  the  cards. 
"  I  will  stake  four  thousand  francs,"  he  faltered. 

"  I  take  your  bet,"  answered  a  voice. 

Alas !  the  unfortunate  fellow's  wish  was  not  grati- 
fied; he  won.  Then  in  the  midst  of  the  wildest 
confusion,  he  exclaimed :  "  Here  are  eight  thousand 
francs !  " 

"  Taken ! " 

But  as  he  began  to  deal  the  cards,  his  neighbor 
sprang  up,  seized  him  roughly  by  the  hands  and  cried : 
"  This  time  I'm  sure  of  it — you  are  a  thief !  " 

With  a  bound,  Pascal  was  on  his  feet.  While  his 
peril  had  been  vague  and  undetermined,  his  energy  had 
been  paralyzed.  But  it  was  restored  to  him  intact  when 
his  danger  declared  itself  in  all  its  horror.  He  pushed 
away  the  man  who  had  caught  his  hands,  with  such 
violence  that  he  sent  him  reeling  under  a  sofa;  then 
he  stepped  back  and  surveyed  the  excited  throng  with 


90  THE   COUNT'S   MILLIONS 

an  air  of  menace  and  defiance.  Useless!  Seven  or 
eight  players  sprang  upon  him  and  overpowered  him, 
as  if  he  had  been  the  vilest  criminal. 

Meanwhile,  the  executioner,  as  he  had  styled  himself, 
had  risen  to  his  feet  with  his  cravat  untied,  and  his 
clothes  in  wild  disorder.  "Yes,"  he  said,  addressing 
Pascal,  "you  are  a  thief!  I  saw  you  slip  other  cards 
among  those  which  were  handed  to  you." 

"  Wretch !  »  gasped  Pascal. 

"  I  saw  you — and  I  am  going  to  prove  it."  So  say- 
ing he  turned  to  the  mistress  of  the  house,  who  had 
dropped  into  an  arm-chair,  and  imperiously  asked, 
"  How  many  packs  have  we  used  ?  " 

"Five." 

"  Then  there  ought  to  be  two  hundred  and  sixty 
cards  upon  the  table." 

Thereupon  he  counted  them  slowly  and  with  particu- 
lar care,  and  he  found  no  fewer  than  three  hundred 
and  seven.  "  Well,  scoundrel !  "  he  cried ;  "  are  you 
still  bold  enough  to  deny  it  ?  " 

Pascal  had  no  desire  to  deny  it.  He  knew  that  words 
would  weigh  as  nothing  against  this  material,  tangible, 
incontrovertible  proof.  Forty-seven  cards  had  been 
fraudulently  inserted  among  the  others.  Certainly  not 
by  him !  But  by  whom  ?  Still  he,  alone,  had  been  the 
gainer  through  the  deception. 

"  You  see  that  the  coward  will  not  even  defend  him- 
self !  "  exclaimed  one  of  the  women.  * 

He  did  not  deign  to  turn  his  head.  What  did  the 
insult  matter  to  him?  He  knew  himself  to  be  inno- 
cent, and  yet  he  felt  that  he  was  sinking  to  the 
lowest  depths  of  infamy — he  beheld  himself  disgraced, 
branded,  ruined.  And  realizing  that  he  must  meet 
facts  with  facts,  he  besought  God  to  grant  him  an 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  91 

idea,  an  inspiration,  that  would  unmask  the  real 
culprit. 

But  another  person  came  to  his  aid.  With  a  bold- 
ness which  no  one  would  have  expected  on  his  part,  M. 
de  Coralth  placed  himself  in  front  of  Pascal,  and  in  a 
voice  which  betokened  more  indignation  than  sorrow, 
he  exclaimed :  "  This  is  a  terrible  mistake,  gentlemen. 
Pascal  Ferailleur  is  my  friend ;  and  his  past  vouches  for 
his  present.  Go  to  the  Palais  de  Justice,  and  make 
inquiries  respecting  his  character  there.  They  will 
tell  you  how  utterly  impossible  it  is  that  this  man  can 
be  guilty  of  the  ignoble  act  he  is  accused  of." 

No  one  made  any  reply.  In  the  opinion  of  all  his 
listeners,  Ferdinand  was  simply  fulfilling  a  duty  which 
it  would  have  been  difficult  for  him  to  escape.  The  old 
gentleman  who  had  decided  the  suspension  and  the 
resumption  of  the  game,  gave  audible  expression  to  the 
prevailing  sentiment  of  the  party.  He  was  a  portly 
man,  who  puffed  like  a  porpoise  when  he  talked,  and 
whom  his  companions  called  the  baron.  "  Your  words 
do  you  honor — really  do  you  honor,"  he  said,  addressing 
Ferdinand — "  and  no  possible  blame  can  attach  to  you. 
That  your  friend  is  not  an  honest  man  is  no  fault  of 
yours.  There  is  no  outward  sign  to  distinguish  scoun- 
drels." 

Pascal  had  so  far  not  opened  his  lips.  After  strug- 
gling for  a  moment  in  the  hands  of  his  captors,  he  now 
stood  perfectly  motionless,  glancing  furiously  around 
him  as  if  hoping  to  discover  the  coward  who  had  pre- 
pared the  trap  into  which  he  had  fallen.  For  he  felt 
certain  that  he  was  the  victim  of  some  atrocious  con- 
spiracy, though  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  divine 
what  motive  had  actuated  his  enemies.  Suddenly  those 
who  were  holding  him  felt  him  tremble.  He  raised  his 


92  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

head ;  he  fancied  he  could  detect  a  ray  of  hope.  "  Shall 
I  be  allowed  to  speak  in  my  own  defence  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Speak ! » 

He  tried  to  free  himself ;  but  those  beside  him  would 
not  relax  their  hold,  so  he  desisted,  and  then,  in  a  voice 
husky  with  emotion,  he  exclaimed :  "  I  am  innocent ! 
I  am  the  victim  of  an  infamous  plot.  Who  the  author 
of  it  is  I  do  not  know.  But  there  is  some  one  here 
who  must  know."  Angry  exclamations  and  sneering 
laughs  interrupted  him.  "  Would  you  condemn  me  un- 
heard ?  "  he  resumed,  raising  his  voice.  "  Listen  to  me. 
About  an  hour  ago,  while  you  were  at  supper,  Madame 
d'Argeles  almost  threw  herself  at  my  feet  as  she  en- 
treated me  to  leave  this  house.  Her  agitation  aston- 
ished me.  Now  I  understand  it." 

The  gentleman  known  as  the  baron  turned  toward 
Madame  d'Argeles :  "  Is  what  this  man  says  true  ?  " 

She  was  greatly  agitated,  but  she  answered :  "  Yes." 

"  Why  were  you  so  anxious  for  him  to  go  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know — a  presentiment — it  seemed  to  me 
that  something  was  going  to  happen." 

The  least  observant  of  the  party  could  not  fail  to 
notice  Madame  d'Argeles's  hesitation  and  confusion; 
but  even  the  shrewdest  were  deceived.  They  supposed 
that  she  had  seen  the  act  committed,  and  had  tried  to 
induce  the  culprit  to  make  his  escape,  in  order  to  avoid 
a  scandal. 

Pascal  saw  he  could  expect  no  assistance  from  this 
source.  "  M.  de  Coralth  could  assure  you,"  he  began. 

"  Oh,  enough  of  that,"  interrupted  a  player.  "  I 
myself  heard  M.  de  Coralth  do  his  best  to  persuade  you 
not  to  play." 

So  the  unfortunate  fellow's  last  and  only  hope  had 
vanished.  Still  he  made  a  supreme  effort,  and  address- 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  93 

ing  Madame  d'Argeles :  "  Madame/'  he  said,  in  a  voice 
trembling  with  anguish,  "  I  entreat  you,  tell  what  you 
know.  Will  you  allow  an  honorable  man  to  be  ruined 
before  your  very  eyes  ?  Will  you  abandon  an  innocent 
man  whom  you  could  save  by  a  single  word?"  But 
she  remained  silent;  and  Pascal  staggered  as  if  some 
one  had  dealt  him  a  terrible  blow.  "  It  is  all  over ! " 
he  muttered. 

No  one  heard  him;  everybody  was  listening  to  the 
baron,  who  seemed  to  be  very  much  put  out.  "  We  are 
wasting  precious  time  with  all  this,"  said  he.  "  We 
should  have  made  at  least  five  rounds  while  this  absurd 
scene  has  been  going  on.  We  must  put  an  end  to  it. 
What  are  you  going  to  do  with  this  fellow?  I  am  in 
favor  of  sending  for  a  commissary  of  police." 

Such  was  not  at  all  the  opinion  of  the  majority  of 
the  guests.  Four  or  five  of  the  ladies  took  flight  at 
the  bare  suggestion  and  several  men — the  most  aristo- 
cratic of  the  company — became  angry  at  once.  "Are 
you  mad  ?  "  said  one  of  them.  "  Do  you  want  to  see 
us  all  summoned  as  witnesses?  You  have  probably 
forgotten  that  Garcia  affair,  and  that  rumpus  at  Jenny 
Fancy's  house.  A  fine  thing  it  would  be  to  see,  no  one 
knows  how  many  great  names  mixed  up  with  those  of 
sharpers  and  notorious  women !  " 

Naturally  of  a  florid  complexion,  the  baron's  face 
now  became  scarlet.  "  So  it's  fear  of  scandal  that 
deters  you  !  Zounds,  sir !  a  man's  courage  should  equal 
his  vices.  Look  at  me." 

Celebrated  for  his  income  of  eight  hundred  thou- 
sand francs  a  year,  for  his  estates  in  Burgundy,  for  his 
passion  for  gaming,  his  horses,  and  his  cook,  the  baron 
wielded  a  mighty  influence.  Still,  on  this  occasion  he 
did  not  carry  the  day,  for  it  was  decided  that  the 


94  THE   COUNTS    MILLIONS 

(t  sharper "  should  be  allowed  to  depart  unmolested. 
"  Make  him  at  least  return  the  money,"  growled  a 
loser ;  "  compel  him  to  disgorge/7 

"  His  winnings  are  there  upon  the  table." 

"Don't  believe  it,"  cried  the  baron.  "All  these 
scoundrels  have  secret  pockets  in  which  they  stow  away 
their  plunder.  Search  him  by  all  means." 

"  That's  it— search  him  !  " 

Crushed  by  this  unexpected,  undeserved  and  incom- 
prehensible misfortune,  Pascal  had  almost  yielded  to 
his  fate.  But  the  shameful  cry :  "  Search  him  !  "  kindled 
terrible  wrath  in  his  brain.  He  shook  off  his  assail- 
ants as  a  lion  shakes  off  the  hounds  that  have  attacked 
him,  and,  reaching  the  fireplace  with  a  single  bound, 
he  snatched  up  a  heavy  bronze  candelabrum  and  bran- 
dished it  in  the  air,  crying :  "  The  first  who  approaches 
is  a  dead  man !  " 

He  was  ready  to  strike,  there  was  no  doubt  about  it ; 
and  such  a  weapon  in  the  hands  of  a  determined  man, 
becomes  positively  terrible.  The  danger  seemed  so 
great  and  so  certain  that  his  enemies  paused — each 
encouraging  his  neighbor  with  his  glance;  but  no  one 
was  inclined  to  engage  in  this  struggle,  by  which  the 
victor  would  merely  gain  a  few  bank-notes.  "  Stand 
back,  and  allow  me  to  retire  ?  "  said  Pascal,  imperiously. 
They  still  hesitated;  but  finally  made  way.  And,  for- 
midable in  his  indignation  and  audacity,  he  reached  the 
door  of  the  room  unmolested,  and  disappeared. 

This  superb  outburst  of  outraged  honor,  this  mar- 
vellous energy — succeeding,  as  it  did,  the  most  complete 
mental  prostration — and  these  terrible  threats,  had 
proved  so  prompt  and  awe-inspiring  that  no  one  had 
thought  of  cutting  off  Pascal's  retreat.  The  guests  had 
not  recovered  from  their  stupor,  but  were  still  stand- 


THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS  95 

ing  silent  and  intimidated  when  they  heard  the  outer 
doer  close  after  him. 

It  was  a  woman  who  at  last  broke  the  spell.  "  Ah, 
well !  "  she  exclaimed,  in  a  tone  of  intense  admiration, 
"  that  handsome  fellow  is  level-headed  !  " 

"  He  naturally  desired  to  save  his  plunder !  " 

It  was  the  same  expression  that  M.  de  Coralth  had 
employed;  and  which  had,  perhaps,  prevented  Pascal 
from  yielding  to  Madame  d'Argeles's  entreaties.  Every- 
body applauded  the  sentiment — everybody,  the  baron 
excepted.  This  rich  man,  whose  passions  had  dragged 
him  into  the  vilest  dens  of  Europe,  was  thoroughly 
acquainted  with  sharpers  and  scoundrels  of  every  type, 
from  those  who  ride  in  their  carriages  down  to  the  bare- 
footed vagabond.  He  knew  the  thief  who  grovels  at 
his  victim's  feet,  humbly  confessing  his  crime,  the  des- 
perate knave  who  swallows  the  notes  he  has  stolen,  the 
abject  wretch  who  bares  his  back  to  receive  the  blows 
he  deserves,  and  the  rascal  who  boldly  confronts  his 
accusers  and  protests  his  innocence  with  the  indig- 
nation of  an  honest  man.  But  never,  in  any  of 
these  scoundrels,  had  the  baron  seen  the  proud,  stead- 
fast glance  with  which  this  man  had  awed  his  ac- 
cusers. 

With  this  thought  uppermost  in  his  mind  he  drew 
the  person  who  had  seized  Pascal's  hands  at  the  card- 
table  a  little  aside.  "Tell  me,"  said  he,  "did  you 
actually  see  that  young  man  slip  the  cards  into  the 
pack?" 

"  No,  not  exactly.  But  you  know  what  we  agreed 
at  supper  ?  We  were  sure  that  he  was  cheating ;  and  it 
was  necessary  to  find  some  pretext  for  counting  the 
cards." 

"What  if  he  shouldn't  be  guilty,  after  all?" 


96  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

"Who  else  could  be  guilty  then?  He  was  the  only 
winner/' 

To  this  terrible  argument — the  same  which  had 
silenced  Pascal — the  baron  made  no  reply.  Indeed  his 
intervention  became  necessary  elsewhere,  for  the  other 
guests  were  beginning  to  talk  loudly  and  excitedly 
around  the  pile  of  gold  and  bank-notes  which  Pascal 
had  left  on  the  table.  They  had  counted  it,  and  found 
it  to  amount  to  the  sum  of  thirty-six  thousand  three 
hundred  and  twenty  francs ;  and  it  was  the  question  of 
dividing  it  properly  among  the  losers  which  was  caus- 
ing all  this  uproar.  Among  these  guests,  who  belonged 
to  the  highest  society — among  these  judges  who  had 
so  summarily  convicted  an  innocent  man,  and  suggested 
the  searching  of  a  supposed  sharper  only  a  moment 
before — there  were  several  who  unblushingly  misrepre- 
sented their  losses.  This  was  undeniable;  for  on  add- 
ing the  various  amounts -that  were  claimed  together  a 
grand  total  of  ninety-one  thousand  francs  was  reached. 
Had  this  man  who  had  just  fled  taken  the  difference 
between  the  two  sums  away  with  him?  A  difference 
amounting  almost  to  fifty-five  thousand  francs?  No, 
this  was  impossible ;  the  supposition  could  not  be  enter- 
tained for  a  moment.  However,  the  discussion  might 
have  taken  an  unfortunate  turn,  had  it  not  been  for  the 
baron.  In  all  matters  relating  to  cards,  his  word  was 
law.  He  quietly  said,  "  It  is  all  right ; "  and  they  sub- 
mitted. 

Nevertheless,  he  absolutely  refused  to  take  his  share 
of  the  money ;  and  after  the  division,  rubbing  his  hands 
as  if  he  were  delighted  to  see  this  disagreeable  affair 
concluded,  he  exclaimed :  "  It  is  only  six  o'clock ;  we 
have  still  time  for  a  few  rounds." 

But  the  other  guests,  pale,  disturbed,  and  secretly 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  97 

ashamed  of  themselves,  were  eager  to  depart,  and  in 
fact  they  were  already  hastening  to  the  cloak-room. 
"At  least  play  a  game  of  ecarte,"  cried  the  baron, 
"a  simple  game  of  ecarte,  at  twenty  louis  a  point/' 

But  no  one  listened,  and  he  reluctantly  prepared  to 
follow  his  departing  friends,  who  bowed  to  Madame 
d'Argeles  on  the  landing,  as  they  filed  by.  M.  de 
Coralth,  who  was  among  the  last  to  retire,  had  already 
reached  the  staircase,  and  descended  two  or  three  steps, 
when  Madame  d'Argeles  called  to  him.  "  Remain/' 
said  she ;  "  I  want  to  speak  with  you." 

"  You  will  excuse  me,"  he  began ;  "  I " 

But  she  again  bade  him  "  remain  "  in  such  an  im- 
perious tone  that  he  dared  not  resist.  He  reascended 
the  stairs,  very  much  after  the  manner  of  a  man  who 
is  being  dragged  into  a  dentist's  office,  and  followed 
Madame  d'Argeles  into  a  small  boudoir  at  the  end  of 
the  gambling-room.  As  soon  as  the  door  was  closed 
and  locked,  the  mistress  of  the  house  turned  to  her 
prisoner.  "  Now  you  will  explain,"  said  she.  "  It  was 
you  who  brought  M.  Pascal  Ferailleur  here." 

"  Alas !  I  know  only  too  well  that  I  ought  to  beg 
your  forgiveness.  However,  this  affair  will  cost  me 
dear  myself.  It  has  already  embroiled  me  in  a  diffi- 
culty with  that  fool  of  a  Rochecote,  with  whom  I  shall 
have  to  fight  in  less  than  a  couple  of  hours." 

"  Where  did  you  make  his  acquaintance  ?  " 

"  Whose— Rochecote's  ?  " 

Madame  d'Argeles's  sempiternal  smile  had  altogether 
disappeared.  "  I  am  speaking  seriously,"  said  she,  with 
a  threatening  ring  in  her  voice.  "  How  did  you  happen 
to  become  acquainted  with  M.  Ferailleur?" 

"  That  can  be  very  easily  explained.  Seven  or  eight 
months  ago  I  had  need  of  an  advocate's  services,  and 


98  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

he  wxas  recommended  to  me.  He  managed  my  case 
very  cleverly,  and  we  kept  up  the  acquaintance." 

"  What  is  his  position  ?  " 

M.  de  Coralth's  features  wore  an  expression  of  ex- 
ceeding weariness  as  if  he  greatly  longed  to  go  to 
sleep.  He  had  indeed  installed  himself  in  a  large  arm- 
chair, in  a  semi-recumbent  position.  "  Upon  my  word,. 
I  don't  know,"  he  replied.  "  Pascal  had  always  seemed 
to  be  the  most  irreproachable  man  in  the  world — a  man 
you  might  call  a  philosopher !  He  lives  in  a  retired 
part  of  the  city,  near  the  Pantheon,  with  his  mother, 
who  is  a  widow,  a  very  respectable  woman,  always 
dressed  in  black.  When  she  opened  the  door  for  me, 
on  the  occasion  of  my  first  visit,  I  thought  some  old 
family  portrait  had  stepped  down  from  its  frame  to 
receive  me.  I  judge  them  to  be  in  comfortable  circum- 
stances. Pascal  has  the  reputation  of  being  a  remark- 
able man,  and  people  supposed  he  would  rise  very  high 
in  his  profession." 

"  But  now  he  is  ruined ;  his  career  is  finished." 

"  Certainly !  You  can  be  quite  sure  that  by  this 
evening  all  Paris  will  know  what  occurred  here  last 
night." 

He  paused,  meeting  Madame  Argeles's  look  of  with- 
ering scorn  with  a  cleverly  assumed  air  of  astonish- 
ment. "  You  are  a  villain !  Monsieur  de  Coralth,"  she 
said,  indignantly. 

"I— and  why?" 

"  Because  it  was  you  who  slipped  those  cards,  which 
made  M.  Ferailleur  win,  into  the  pack;  I  saw  you  do 
it !  And  yielding  to  my  entreaties,  the  young  fellow 
was  about  to  leave  the  house  when  you,  intentionally, 
prevented  him  from  saving  himself.  Oh !  don't  deny 
it." 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  99 

M.  de  Coralth  rose  in  the  coolest  possible  man- 
ner. "  I  deny  nothing,  my  dear  lady/'  he  replied, 
"  absolutely  nothing.  You  and  I  understand  each 
other." 

Confounded  by  his  unblushing  impudence,  Madame 
d'Argeles  remained  speechless  for  a  moment.  "You 
confess  it !  "  she  cried,  at  last.  "  You  dare  to  confess 
it !  Were  you  not  afraid  that  I  might  speak  and  state 
what  I  had  seen  ?  " 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  No  one  would  have 
believed  you/'  he  exclaimed. 

"  Yes,  I  should  have  been  believed,  Monsieur  de 
Coralth,  for  I  could  have  given  proofs.  You  must  have 
forgotten  that  I  know  you,  that  your  past  life  is  no 
secret  to  me,  that  I  know  who  you  are,  and  what  dis- 
honored name  you  hide  beneath  your  borrowed  title ! 
I  could  have  told  my  guests  that  you  are  married — that 
you  have  abandoned  your  wife  and  child,  leaving  them 
to  perish  in  want  and  misery — I  could  have  told  them 
where  you  obtain  the  thirty  or  forty  thousand  francs 
you  spend  each  year.  You  must  have  forgotten  that 
Rose  told  me  everything,  Monsieur — Paul !  " 

She  had  struck  the  right  place  this  time,  and  with 
such  precision  that  M.  de  Coralth  turned  livid,  and 
made  a  furious  gesture,  as  if  he  were  about  to  fell  her 
to  the  ground.  "  Ah,  take  care !  "  he  exclaimed ;  "  take 
care !  " 

But  his  rage  speedily  subsided,  and  with  his  usual 
indifferent  manner,  and  in  a  bantering  tone,  he  said: 
"Well,  what  of  that?  Do  you  fancy  that  the  world 
doesn't  already  suspect  what  you  could  reveal  ?  People 
have  suspected  me  of  being  even  worse  than  I  am. 
When  you  proclaim  on  the  housetops  that  I  am  an  ad- 
venturer, folks  will  only  laugh  at  you,  and  I  shall  be 


100  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

none  the  worse  for  it.  A  matter  that  would  crush  a 
dozen  men  like  Pascal  Ferailleur  would  not  injure  me 
in  the  least.  I  am  accustomed  to  it.  I  must  have 
luxury  and  enjoyment,  everything  that  is  pleasant  and 
beautiful — and  to  procure  all  this,  I  do  my  very  best. 
It  is  true  that  I  don't  derive  my  income  from  my  estate 
in  Brie;  but  I  have  plenty  of  money,  and  that  is  the 
essential  thing.  Besides,  it  is  so  difficult  to  earn  a 
livelihood  nowadays,  and  the  love  of  luxury  is  so 
intense  that  no  one  knows  at  night  what  he  may  do — 
or,  rather,  what  he  won't  do — the  next  day.  And  last, 
but  not  least,  the  people  who  ought  to  be  despised  are 
so  numerous  that  contempt  is  an  impossibility.  A 
Parisian  who  happened  to  be  so  absurdly  pretentious 
as  to  refuse  to  shake  hands  with  such  of  his  acquaint- 
ances as  were  not  irreproachable  characters,  might  walk 
for  hours  on  the  Boulevards  without  finding  an  occa- 
sion to  take  his  hands  out  of  his  pockets." 

M.  de  Coralth  talked  well  enough,  and  yet,  in  point 
of  fact,  all  this  was  sheer  bravado  on  his  part.  He 
knew  better  than  any  one  else,  on  what  a  frail  and  un- 
certain basis  his  brilliant  existence  was  established. 
Certainly,  society  does  show  great  indulgence  to  peo- 
ple of  doubtful  reputation.  It  shuts  its  eyes  and  re- 
fuses to  look  or  listen.  But  this  is  all  the  more  reason 
why  it  should  be  pitiless  when  a  person's  guilt  is  posi- 
tively established.  Thus,  although  he  assumed  an  air 
of  insolent  security,  the  "  viscount "  anxiously  watched 
the  effect  of  his  words  upon  Madame  d'Argeles.  For- 
tunately for  himself,  he  saw  that  she  was  abashed  by 
his  cynicism ;  and  so  he  resumed :  "  Besides,  as  our 
friend,  the  baron,  would  say,  we  are  wasting  precious 
time  in  discussing  improbable,  and  even  impossible, 
suppositions.  I  was  sufficiently  well  acquainted  with 


THE    COUNT'S    MiLLION^          > 101 

your  heart  and  your  intelligence,  my  dear  madame,  to 
be  sure  that  you  would  not  speak  a  word  to  my  dis- 
paragement." 

"  Indeed  !     What  prevented  me  from  doing  so  ?  " 

"  /  did ;  or  perhaps  I  ought  rather  to  say,,  your  own 
good  sense,  which  closed  your  mouth  when  Monsieur 
Pascal  entreated  you  to  speak  in  his  defence.  I  am 
entitled  to  considerable  indulgence,  madame,  and  a 
great  deal  ought  to  be  forgiven  me.  My  mother,  un- 
fortunately, was  an  honest  woman,  who  did  not  furnish 
me  with  the  means  of  gratifying  every  whim." 

Madame  d'Argeles  recoiled  as  if  a  serpent  had  sud- 
denly crossed  her  path. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  she  faltered. 

"  You  know  as  well  as  I  do." 

"  I  don't  understand  you — explain  yourself." 

With  the  impatient  gesture  of  a  man  who  finds  him- 
self compelled  to  answer  an  idle  question,  and  assum- 
ing an  air  of  hypocritical  commiseration,  he  replied: 
"  Well,  since  you  insist  upon  it,  I  know,  in  Paris — in 
the  Rue  de  Helder,  to  be  more  exact — a  nice  young 
fellow,  whose  lot  I  have  often  envied.  He  has  wanted 
for  nothing  since  the  day  he  came  into  the  world.  At 
school,  he  had  three  times  as  much  money  as  his  richest 
playfellow.  When  his  studies  were  finished,  a  tutor 
was  provided — with  his  pockets  full  of  gold — to  con- 
duct this  favored  youth  to  Italy,  Egypt,  and  Greece. 
He  is  now  studying  law;  and  four  times  a  year,  with 
unvarying  punctuality,  he  receives  a  letter  from  Lon- 
don containing  five  thousand  francs.  This  is  all  the 
more  remarkable,  as  this  young  man  has  neither  a 
father  nor  a  mother.  He  is  alone  in  the  world  with 
his  income  of  twenty  thousand  francs.  I  have  heard 
him  say,  jestingly,  that  some  good  fairy  must  be  watch- 


192  THE   COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

ing  over  him;  but  I  know  that  he  believes  himself  to 
be  the  illegitimate  son  of  some  great  English  noble- 
man. Sometimes,,  when  he  has  drunk  a  little  too  much, 
he  talks  of  going  in  search  of  my  lord,  his  father." 

The  effect  M.  de  Coralth  had  created  by  these  words 
must  have  been  extremely  gratifying  to  him,  for 
Madame  d'Argeles  had  fallen  back  in  her  chair,  almost 
fainting.  "  So,  my  dear  madame,"  he  continued,  "  if 
I  ever  had  any  reason  to  fancy  that  you  intended  caus- 
ing me  any  trouble,  I  should  go  to  this  charming  youth 
and  say :  '  My  good  fellow,  you  are  strangely  deceived. 
Your  money  doesn't  come  from  the  treasure-box  of  an 
English  peer,  but  from  'a  small  gambling  den  with 
which  I  am  very  well  acquainted,  having  often  had 
occasion  to  swell  its  revenues  with  my  franc-pieces.' 
And  if  he  mourned  his  vanished  dreams,  I  should  tell 
him :  '  You  are  wrong ;  for,,  if  the  great  nobleman  is 
lost,  the  good  fairy  remains.  She  is  none  other  than 
your  mother,  a  very  worthy  person,  whose  only  object 
in  life  is  your  comfort  and  advancement.'  And  if  he 
doubted  my  word,  I  should  bring  him  to  his  mother's 
house  some  baccarat  night ;  and  there  would  be  a  scene 
of  recognition  worthy  of  Fargueil's  genius." 

Any  man  but  M.  de  Coralth  would  have  had  some 
compassion,  for  Madame  d'Argeles  was  evidently  suf- 
fering agony.  "  It  is  as  I  feared !  "  she  moaned,  in  a 
scarcely  audible  voice. 

However,  he  heard  her.  "  What !  "  he  exclaimed  in 
a  tone  of  intense  astonishment ;  "  did  you  really  doubt 
it?  No;  I  can't  believe  it;  it  would  be  doing  injustice 
to  your  intelligence  and  experience.  Are  people  like 
ourselves  obliged  to  talk  in  order  to  understand  each 
other  ?  Should  I  ever  have  ventured  to  do  what  I  have 
done,  in  your  house,  if  1  had  not  known  the  secret  of 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  103 

your  maternal  tenderness,  delicacy  of  feeling,  and  de- 
votion ?  " 

She  was  weeping;  big  tears  were  rolling  down  her 
face,  tracing  a  broad  furrow  through  the  powder  on 
her  cheeks.  "  He  knows  everything !  "  she  murmured ; 
"  he  knows  everything !  " 

"  By  the  merest  chance,  I  assure  you.  As  I  don't 
like  folks  to  meddle  with  my  affairs,  I  never  meddle 
with  theirs.  As  I  have  just  said,  it  was  entirely  the 
work  of  chance.  One  April  afternoon  I  came  to  in- 
vite you  to  a  drive  in  the  Bois.  I  was  ushered  into  this 
very  room  where  we  are  sitting  now,  and  found  you 
writing.  I  said  I  would  wait  until  you  finished  your 
letter;  but  some  one  called  you,  and  you  hastily  left 
the  room.  How  it  was  that  I  happened  to  approach 
your  writing-table  I  cannot  explain ;  but  I  did  approach 
it,  and  read  your  unfinished  letter.  Upon  my  word  it 
touched  me  deeply.  I  can  give  no  better  proof  of  the 
truth  of  my  assertion  than  the  fact  that  I  can  repeat 
it,  almost  word  for  word,  even  now.  '  DEAR  SIR/ — 
you  wrote  to  your  London  correspondent — '  I  send  you 
three  thousand  francs,  in  addition  to  the  five  thousand 
for  the  regular  quarterly  payment.  Forward  the  money 
without  delay.  I  fear  the  poor  boy  is  greatly  annoyed 
by  his  creditors.  Yesterday  I  had  the  happiness  of  see- 
ing him  in  the  Rue  de  Helder,  and  I  found  him  looking 
pale  and  careworn.  When  you  send  him  this  money, 
forward  at  the  same  time  a  letter  of  fatherly  advice. 
It  is  true,  he  ought  to  work  and  win  an  honorable  posi- 
tion for  himself;  but  think  of  the  dangers  and  tempta- 
tion that  beset  him,  alone  and  friendless,  in  this  cor- 
rupt city/  There,  my  dear  lady,  your  letter  ended; 
but  the  name  and  address  were  given,  and  it  was  easy 
enough  to  understand  it.  You  remember,  perhaps,  a 


104  THE    COUNTS   MILLIONS 

little  incident  that  occurred  after  your  return.  On 
perceiving  that  you  had  forgotten  your  letter,  you 
turned  pale  and  glanced  at  me.  '  Have  you  read  it, 
and  do  you  understand  it  ? '  your  eyes  asked ;  while 
mine  replied :  '  Yes,  but  I  shall  be  silent/  }: 

"  And  I  shall  be  silent  too,"  said  Madame  d'Argeles. 

M.  de  Coralth  took  her  hand  and  raised  it  to  his 
lips.  "  I  knew  we  should  understand  each  other/'  he 
remarked,  gravely.  "  I  am  not  bad  at  heart,  believe 
me;  and  if  I  had  possessed  money  of  my  own,  or  a 
mother  like  you " 

She  averted  her  face,  fearing  perhaps  that  M.  de 
Coralth  might  read  her  opinion  of  him  in  her  eyes; 
but  after  a  short  pause  she  exclaimed  beseechingly: 
"  Now  that  I  am  your  accomplice,  let  me  entreat  you 
to  do  all  you  possibly  can  to  prevent  last  night's  affair 
from  being  noised  abroad." 

"  Impossible." 

"If  not  for  M.  Ferailleur's  sake,  for  the  sake  of  his 
poor  widowed  mother." 

"  Pascal  must  be  put  out  of  the  way !  " 

"  Why  do  you  say  that  ?  Do  you  hate  him  so  much 
then  ?  What  has  he  done  to  you  ?  " 

"To  me,  personally?  Nothing — I  even  feel  actual 
sympathy  for  him." 

Madame  d'Argeles  was  confounded.  "  What !  "  she 
stammered ;  "  it  wasn't  on  your  own  account  that  you 
did  this?" 

"  Why,  no." 

She  sprang  to  her  feet,  and  quivering  with  scorn  and 
indignation,  cried :  "  Ah !  then  the  deed  is  even  more 
infamous — even  more  cowardly !  "  But  alarmed  by 
the  threatening  gleam  in  M.  de  Coralth's  eyes,  she  went 
no  further. 


THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS  105 

"  A  truce  to  these  disagreeable  truths/5  said  he, 
coldly.  "  If  we  expressed  our  opinions  of  each  other 
without  reserve,  in  this  world,  we  should  soon  come 
to  hard  words.  Do  you  think  I  acted  for  my  own 
pleasure?  Suppose  some  one  had  seen  me  when  I 
slipped  the  cards  into  the  pack.  If  that  had  happened,. 
/  should  have  been  ruined/5 

"  And  you  think  that  no  one  suspects  you  ?  " 
"  No  one.    I  lost  more  than  a  hundred  louis  myself.. 
If  Pascal  belonged  to  our  set,  people  might  investigate 
the  matter,  perhaps;  but  to-morrow   it  will  be   for- 
gotten." 

"  And  will  he  have  no  suspicions  ?  " 
"  He  will  have  no  proofs  to  offer,  in  any  case/5 
Madame  d'Argeles  seemed  to  resign  herself  to  the 
inevitable.    "  I  hope  you  will,  at  least,  tell  me  on  whose 
behalf  you  acted,"  she  remarked. 

"  Impossible,"  replied  M.  de  Coralth.  And,  consult- 
ing his  watch,  he  added,  "  But  I  am  forgetting  myself ; 
I  am  forgetting  that  that  idiot  of  a  Rochecote  is  waiting 
for  a  sword-thrust.  So  go  to  sleep,  my  dear  lady,  and 
— till  we  meet  again." 

She  accompanied  him  so  far  as  the  landing.  "  It  is 
quite  certain  that  he  is  hastening  to  the  house  of  M. 
Ferailleur's  enemy,"  she  thought.  And,  calling  her 
confidential  servant,  "  Quick,  Job,"  she  said ;  "  follow 
M.  de  Coralth.  I  want  to  know  where  he  is  going.- 
And,  above  all,  take  care  that  he  doesn't  see  you." 


106  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 


V. 


IF  through  the  length  and  breadth  of  Paris  there  is  a 
really  quiet,  peaceful  street,  a  refuge  for  the  thought- 
fully inclined,  it  is  surely  the  broad  Rue  d'Ulm,  which 
starts  from  the  Place  du  Pantheon,  and  finishes 
abruptly  at  the  Rue  des  Feuillantines.  The  shops  are 
unassuming,  and  so  few  that  one  can  easily  count  them. 
There  is  a  wine-shop  on  the  left-hand  side,  at  the  cor- 
ner of  the  Rue  de  la  Vieille-Estrapade ;  then  a  little 
toy-shop,  then  a  washerwoman's  and  then  a  book- 
binder's establishment;  while  on  the  right-hand  you 
will  find  the  office  of  the  Bulletin,  with  a  locksmith's, 
a  fruiterer's,  and  a  baker's — that  is  all.  Along  the  rest 
of  the  street  run  several  spacious  buildings,,  somewhat 
austere  in  appearance,  though  some  of  them  are  sur- 
rounded by  large  gardens.  Here  stands  the  Convent 
of  the  Sisters  of  the  Cross,  with  the  House  of  Our 
Lady  of  Adoration ;  while  further  on,  near  the  Rue  des 
Feuillantines,  you  find  the  Normal  School,  with  the 
office  of  the  General  Omnibus  Company  hard  by.  At 
day-time  you  mostly  meet  grave  and  thoughtful  faces 
in  the  street:  priests,  savants,  professors,  and  clerks 
employed  in  the  adjacent  public  libraries.  The  only 
stir  is  round  about  the  omnibus  office;  and  if  occa- 
sional bursts  of  laughter  are  heard  they  are  sure  to 
come  from  the  Normal  School.  After  nightfall,  a 
person  might  suppose  himself  to  be  at  least  a  hundred 
leagues  from  the  Boulevard  Montmartre  and  the  Opera- 
House,  in  some  quiet  old  provincial  town,  at  Poitiers, 
for  instance.  And  it  is  only  on  listening  attentively  that 
you  can  catch  even  a  faint  echo  of  the  tumult  of  Paris. 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  107 

It  was  in  this  street — "out  of  the  world,"  as  M.  de 
Coralth  expressed  it — that  Pascal  Ferailleur  resided 
with  his  mother.  They  occupied  a  second  floor,  a 
pretty  suite  of  five  rooms,  looking  out  upon  a  garden. 
Their  rent  was  high.  Indeed,  they  paid  fourteen  hun- 
dred francs  a  year.  But  this  was  a  burden  which 
Pascal's  profession  imposed  upon  him ;  for  he,  of 
course,  required  a  private  office  and  a  little  waiting- 
room  for  his  clients.  With  this  exception,  the  mother 
and  son  led  a  straightened,  simple  life.  Their  only  ser- 
vant was  a  woman  who  came  at  seven  o'clock  to  do  the 
heavy  work,  went  home  again  at  twelve,  and  did  not 
return  again  until  the  evening,  to  serve  dinner. 
Madame  Ferailleur  attended  to  everything,  not  blushing 
in  the  least  when  she  was  compelled  to  open  the  door 
for  some  client.  Besides,  she  could  do  this  without  the 
least  risk  of  encountering  disrespect,  so  imposing  and 
dignified  were  her  manners  and  her  person. 

M.  de  Coralth  had  shown  excellent  judgment  when 
he  compared  her  to  a  family  portrait.  She  was,  in  fact, 
exactly  the  person  a  painter  would  select  to  represent 
some  old  burgher's  wife — a  chaste  and  loving  spouse, 
a  devoted  mother,  an  incomparable  housewife — in  one 
phrase,  the  faithful  guardian  of  her  husband's  domestic 
happiness.  She  had  just  passed  her  fiftieth  birthday, 
and  looked  fully  her  age.  She  had  suffered.  A  close 
observer  would  have  detected  traces  of  weeping  about 
her  wrinkled  eyelids;  and  the  twinge  of  her  lips  was 
expressive  of  cruel  anguish,  heroically  endured.  Still, 
she  was  not  severe,  nor  even  too  sedate;  and  the  few 
friends  who  visited  her  were  often  really  astonished  at 
her  wit.  Besides,  she  was  one  of  those  women  who 
have  no  history,  and  who  find  happiness  in  what 
others  would  call  duty.  Her  life  could  be  summed 


108  THE   COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

up  in  a  single  sentence:  she  had  loved;  she  had 
mourned. 

The  daughter  of  a  petty  clerk  in  one  of  the  govern- 
ment departments,  and  merely  dowered  with  a  modest 
portion  of  three  thousand  francs,  she  had  married  a 
young  man  as  poor  as  herself,  but  intelligent  and  indus- 
trious, whom  she  loved,  and  who  adored  her.  This 
young  man  on  marrying  had  sworn  that  he  would  make 
a  fortune;  not  that  he  cared  for  money  for  himself, 
but  he  wished  to  provide  his  idol  with  every  luxury. 
His  love,  enhancing  his  energy,  no  doubt  hastened  his 
success.  Attached  as  a  chemist  to  a  large  manufac- 
turing establishment,  his  services  soon  became  so  in- 
valuable to  his  employers  that  they  gave  him  a  con- 
siderable interest  in  the  business.  His  name  even 
obtained  an  honorable  place  among  modern  inventors; 
and  we  are  indebted  to  him  for  the  discovery  of  one 
of  those  brilliant  colors  that  are  extracted  from  com- 
mon coal.  At  the  end  of  ten  years  he  had  become  a 
man  of  means.  He  loved  his  wife  as  fondly  as  on  the 
day  of  their  marriage,  and  he  had  a  son — Pascal. 

Unfortunate  fellow !  One  day,  in  the  full  sunshine 
of  happiness  and  success,  while  he  was  engaged  in  a 
series  of  experiments  for  the  purpose  of  obtaining  a 
durable,  and  at  the  same  time  perfectly  harmless,  green, 
the  chemicals  exploded,  smashing  the  mortar  which  he 
held,  and  wounding  him  horribly  about  the  head  and 
chest.  A  fortnight  later  he  died,  apparently  calm,  but 
in  reality  a  prey  to  bitter  regrets.  It  was  a  terrible 
blow  for  his  poor  wife,  and  the  thought  of  her  son 
alone  reconciled  her  to  life.  Pascal  was  now  every- 
thing to  her — her  present  and  her  future;  and  she 
solemnly  vowed  that  she  would  make  a  noble  man  of 
him.  But,  alas !  misfortunes  never  come  singly.  One 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  109 

of  fter  husband's  friends,  who  acted  as  administrator 
to  the  estate,  took  a  contemptible  advantage  of  her  in- 
experience. She  went  to  sleep  one  night  possessing  an 
income  of  fifteen  thousand  francs^  but  she  awoke  to 
find  herself  ruined — so  completely  ruined  that  she  did 
not  know  where  to  obtain  her  dinner  for  that  same 
.evening.  Had  she  been  alone  in  the  world,  she  would 
not  have  grieved  much  over  the  catastrophe,  but  she 
was  sadly  affected  by  the  thought  that  her  son's  future 
was,  perhaps,  irrevocably  blighted,  and  that,  in  any 
case,  this  disaster  would  condemn  him  to  enter 
life  through  the  cramped  and  gloomy  portals  of 
poverty. 

However,  Madame  Ferailleur  was  of  too  courageous 
and  too  proud  a  nature  not  to  meet  this  danger  with 
virile  energy.  She  wasted  no  time  in  useless  lamentations. 
She  determined  to  repair  the  harm  as  far  as  it  was  in 
her  power  to  repair  it,  resolving  that  her  son's  studies 
at  the  college  of  Louis-the-Great  should  not  be  inter- 
rupted, even  if  she  had  to  labor  with  her  own  hands. 
And  when  she  spoke  of  manual  toil,  it  was  no  wild, 
inmeaning  exaggeration  born  of  sorrow  and  a  passing 
flash  of  courage.  She  found  employment  as  a  day- 
servant  and  in  sewing  for  large  shops,  until  she  at 
last  obtained  a  situation  as  clerk  in  the  establishment 
where  her  husband  had  been  a  partner.  To  obtain  this 
she  was  obliged  to  acquire  a  knowledge  of  bookkeep- 
ing, but  she  was  amply  repaid  for  her  trouble;  for  the 
situation  was  worth  eighteen  hundred  francs  a  year, 
besides  food  and  lodging.  Then  only  did  her  efforts 
momentarily  abate ;  she  felt  that  her  arduous  task  was 
drawing  to  a  happy  close.  Pascal's  expenses  at  school 
amounted  to  about  nine  hundred  francs  a  year;  she  did 
not  spend  more  than  one  hundred  on  herself;  and  thus 


110  THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS 

she  was  able  to  save  nearly  eight  hundred  francs  a 
year. 

It  must  be  admitted  that  she  was  admirably  seconded 
in  her  efforts  by  hef  son.  Pascal  was  only  twelve  years 
old  when  his  mother  said  to  him :  "  I  have  ruined  you, 
my  son.  Nothing  remains  of  the  fortune  which  your 
father  accumulated  by  dint  of  toil  and  self-sacrifice. 
You  will  be  obliged  to  rely  upon  yourself,  my  boy. 
God  grant  that  in  years  to  come  you  will  not  reproach 
me  for  my  imprudence." 

The  child  did  not  throw  himself  into  her  arms,  but 
holding  his  head  proudly  erect,  he  answered :  "  I  shall 
love  you  even  more,  dear  mother,  if  that  be  possible. 
As  for  the  fortune  which  my  father  left  you,  I  will 
restore  it  to  you  again.  I  am  no  longer  a  school-boy, 
I  am  a  man — as  you  shall  see." 

One  could  not  fail  to  perceive  that  he  had  taken  a 
solemn  vow.  Although  he  possessed  a  remarkable 
mind,  and  the  power  of  acquiring  knowledge  rapidly, 
he  had,  so  far,  worked  indifferently,  and  then  only 
by  fits  and  starts,  whenever  examination  time  drew 
near.  But  from  that  day  forward  he  did  not  lose 
a  moment.  His  remarks,  which  were  at  once  comical 
and  touching,  were  those  of  the  head  of  a  family,  deeply 
impressed  by  a  sense  of  his  own  responsibility.  "  You 
see,"  he  said  to  his  companions,  who  were  astonished 
at  his  sudden  thirst  for  knowledge,  "  I  can't  afford  to 
wear  out  my  breeches  on  the  college  forms,  now  that 
my  poor  mother  has  to  pay  for  them  with  her  work." 

His  good-humor  was  not  in  the  least  impaired  by  his 
resolve  not  to  spend  a  single  penny  of  his  pocket 
money.  With  a  tact  unusual  at  his  age,  or  indeed  at 
any  other,  he  bore  his  misfortunes  simply  and  proudly, 
without  any  of  the  servile  humility  or  sullen  envy 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  111 

which  so  often  accompanies  poverty.  For  three  years 
in  succession  the  highest  prizes  at  the  competitions  re- 
warded him  for  his  efforts;  but  these  successes,  far 
from  elating  him  unduly,  seemed  to  afford  him  but 
little  satisfaction.  "This  is  only  glory,"  he  thought; 
and  his  great  ambition  was  to  support  himself. 

He  was  soon  able  to  do  so,  thanks  to  the  kindness 
of  the  head-master,  who  offered  him  his  tuition  gratis 
if  he  would  assist  in  superintending  some  of  the  lower 
classes.  Thus  one  day  when  Madame  Ferailleur  pre- 
sented herself  as  usual  to  make  her  quarterly  payment, 
the  steward  replied :  "  You  owe  us  nothing,  madame ; 
everything  has  been  paid  by  your  son." 

She  almost  fainted ;  after  bearing  adversity  so  brave- 
ly, this  happiness  proved  too  much  for  her.  She  could 
scarcely  believe  it.  A  long  explanation  was  necessary 
to  convince  her  of  the  truth,  and  then  big  tears,  tears 
of  joy  this  time,  gushed  from  her  eyes. 

In  this  way,  Pascal  Ferailleur  paid  all  the  expenses 
of  his  education  until  he  had  won  his  degree,  arming 
himself  so  as  to  resist  the  trials  that  awaited  him,  and 
giving  abundant  proof  of  energy  and  ability.  He 
wished  to  be  a  lawyer;  and  the  law,  he  was  forced  to 
admit,  is  a  profession  which  is  almost  beyond  the  reach 
of  penniless  young  men.  But  there  are  no  insurmount- 
able obstacles  for  those  whose  hearts  are  really  set  on 
an  object.  On  the  very  day  that  Pascal  inscribed  his 
name  as  a  student  at  the  law  school,  he  entered  an 
advocate's  office  as  a  clerk.  His  duties,  which  were 
extremely  tiresome  at  first,  had  the  two-fold  advantage 
of  familiarizing  him  with  the  forms  of  legal  procedure, 
and  of  furnishing  him  with  the  means  of  prosecuting 
his  studies.  After  he  had  been  in  the  office  six  months, 
his  employer  agreed  to  pay  him  eight  hundred  francs  a 


112  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

year,  which  were  increased  to  fifteen  hundred  at  the 
end  of  the  second  twelvemonth.  In  three  years,  when 
he  had  passed  his  final  examination  qualifying  him  to 
practise,  his  patron  raised  him  to  the  position  of  head- 
clerk,  with  a  salary  of  three  thousand  francs,  which 
Pascal  was  moreover  able  to  increase  considerably  by 
drawing  up  documents  for  busy  attorneys,  and  assist- 
ing them  in  the  preparation  of  their  least  important 
cases. 

It  was  certainly  something  wonderful  to  have 
achieved  such  a  result  in  so  short  a  time;  but  the  most 
difficult  part  of  his  task  had  still  to  be  accomplished. 
It  was  a  perilous  undertaking  to  abandon  an  assured 
position,  to  cast  a  certainty  aside  for  the  chances  of 
life  at  the  bar.  It  was  a  grave  step — so  grave,  indeed, 
that  Pascal  hesitated  for  a  long  time.  He  was  threat- 
ened with  the  danger  that  always  threatens  subordinates 
who  are  useful  to  their  superiors.  He  felt  that  his 
employer,  who  was  in  the  habit  of  relieving  himself  of 
his  heaviest  duties  by  intrusting  them  to  him,  would 
not  be  likely  to  forgive  him  for  leaving.  And  on  start- 
ing on  his  own  account,  he  could  ill  afford  to  dispense 
with  this  lawyer's  good-will.  The  patronage  that  could 
scarcely  fail  to  follow  him  from  an  office  where  he  had 
served  for  four  years  was  the  most  substantial  basis  of 
his  calculations  for  the  future.  Eventually  he  succeeded 
to  his  satisfaction,  though  not  without  some  difficulty, 
and  only  by  employing  that  supreme  finesse  which  con- 
sists in  absolute  frankness. 

Before  his  office  had  been  open  a  fortnight,  he  had 
seven  or  eight  briefs  waiting  their  turn  upon  his  desk, 
and  his  first  efforts  were  such  as  win  the  approving 
smile  of  old  judges,  and  draw  from  them  the  predic- 
tion :  "  That  young  man  will  rise  in  his  profession." 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  113 

He  had  not  desired  to  make  any  display  of  his  knowl- 
edge or  talent,  but  merely  to  win  the  cases  confided  to 
him ;  and,  unlike  many  beginners,  he  evinced  no  inclina- 
tion to  shine  at  his  clients'  expense.  Rare  modesty, 
and  it  served  him  well.  His  first  ten  months  of  prac- 
tice brought  him  about  eight  thousand  francs,  absorbed 
in  part  by  the  expense  attaching  to  a  suitable  office. 
The  second  year  his  fees  increased  by  about  one-half, 
and,  feeling  that  his  position  was  now  assured,  he 
insisted  that  his  mother  should  resign  her  clerkship. 
He  proved  to  her  what  was  indeed  the  truth — that  by 
superintending  his  establishment,  she  would  save  more 
than  she  made  in  her  present  position. 

From  that  time  the  mother  and  the  son  had  good 
reason  to  believe  that  their  heroic  energy  had  conquered 
fate.  Clients  became  so  numerous  that  Pascal  found 
it  necessary  to  draw  nearer  the  business  centre,  and 
his  rent  was  consequently  doubled;  but  the  income  he 
derived  from  his  profession  increased  so  rapidly  that 
he  soon  had  twelve  thousand  francs  safely  invested  as 
j.  resource  against  any  emergency.  Madame  Ferailleur 
now  laid  aside  the  mourning  she  had  worn  since  her 
husband's  death.  She  felt  that  she  owed  it  to  Pascal; 
and,  besides,  after  believing  there  was  no  more  happi- 
ness left  for  her  on  earth,  her  heart  rejoiced  at  her 
son's  success. 

Pascal  was  thus  on  the  high-road  to  fame,  when  a 
complication  in  M.  Ferdinand  de  Coralth's  affairs 
brought  that  young  nobleman  to  his  office.  The  trouble 
arose  from  a  little  stock  exchange  operation  which  M. 
Ferdinand  had  engaged  in — an  affair  which  savored  a 
trifle  of  knavery.  It  was  strange,  but  Pascal  rather 
took  a  liking  to  M.  de  Coralth.  The  honest  worker 
felt  interested  in  this  dashing  adventurer;  he  was  al- 


114  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

most  dazzled  by  his  brilliant  vices,  his  wit,  his  hardi- 
hood, conceit,  marvellous  assurance,  and  careless  im- 
pudence; and  he  studied  this  specimen  of  the  Parisian 
flora  with  no  little  curiosity.  M.  de  Coralth  certainly 
did  not  confide  the  secret  of  his  life  and  his  resources 
to  Pascai  but  the  latter' s  intelligence  should  have  told 
him  to  distiust  a  man  who  treated  the  requirements  of 
morality  even  more  than  cavalierly,  and  who  had  in- 
finitely more  wants  than  scruples.  However,  the  young 
advocate  seemed  to  have  no  suspicions ;  they  exchanged 
visits  occasionally,  and  it  was  Pascal  himself  who  one 
day  requested  the  viscount  to  take  him  to  one  of  those 
"  Reunions  in  High  Life "  which  the  newspapers  de- 
scribe in  such  glowing  terms. 

Madame  Ferailleur  was  playing  a  game  of  whist  with 
a  party  of  old  friends,  according  to  her  custom  every 
Thursday  evening,  when  M.  de  Coralth  called  to  invite 
the  young  advocate  to  accompany  him  to  Madame 
d'Argeles's  reception.  Pascal  considered  his  friend's 
invitation  exceedingly  well  timed.  He  dressed  himself 
with  more  than  ordinary  care,  and,  as  usual  before 
going  out,  he  approached  his  mother  to  kiss  her  and 
wish  her  good-bye.  "  How  fine  you  are !  "  she  said, 
smiling. 

"  I  am  going  to  a  soiree,  my  dear  mother/'  he  re- 
plied; "and  it  is  probable  that  I  shall  not  return  until 
very  late.  So  don't  wait  for  me,  I  beg  of  you ;  promise 
me  to  go  to  bed  at  your  usual  hour." 

"  Have  you  the  night-key  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"Very  well,  then;  I  will  not  wait  for  you.  When 
you  come  in  you  will  find  your  candle  and  some  matches 
on  the  buffet  in  the  ante-room.  And  wrap  yourself 
up  well,  for  it  is  very  cold."  Then  raising  her  fore- 


THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS  115 

head  to  her  son's  lips,  she  gayly  added :  "  A  pleasant 
evening  to  you,  my  boy !  " 

Faithful  to  her  promise,,  Madame  Ferailleur  retired 
at  the  usual  hour;  but  she  could  not  sleep.  She  cer- 
tainly had  no  cause  for  anxiety,  and  yet  the  thought 
that  her  son  was  not  at  home  filled  her  heart  with  vague 
misgivings  such  as  she  had  never  previously  felt  under 
similar  circumstances.  Possibly  it  was  because  she 
did  not  know  where  Pascal  was  going.  Possibly  M. 
de  Coralth  was  the  cause  of  her  strange  disquietude, 
for  she  utterly  disliked  the  viscount.  Her  woman's 
instinct  warned  her  that  there  was  something  unwhole- 
some about  this  young  man's  peculiar  handsomeness, 
and  that  it  was  not  safe  to  trust  to  his  professions  of 
friendship.  At  all  events,  she  lay  awake  and  heard  the 
clock  of  the  neighboring  Normal  School  strike  each 
successive  hour — two,  three,  and  four.  "  How  late 
Pascal  stays,"  she  said  to  herself. 

And  suddenly  a  fear  more  poignant  even  than  her 
presentiments  darted  through  her  mind.  She  sprang 
out  of  bed  and  rushed  to  the  window.  She  fancied  she 
had  heard  a  terrible  cry  of  distress  in  the  deserted 
street.  At  that  very  moment,  the  insulting  word 
"  thief  "  was  being  hurled  in  her  son's  face.  But  the 
street  was  silent,  and  deciding  that  she  had  been  mis- 
taken, she  went  back  to  bed  laughing  at  herself  for  her 
fears;  and  at  last  she  fell  asleep.  But  judge  of  her 
terror  in  the  morning  when,  on  rising  to  let  the  servant 
in,  she  saw  Pascal's  candle  still  standing  on  the  buffet. 
Was  it  possible  that  he  had  not  returned?  She  hast- 
ened to  his  room — he  was  not  there.  And  it  was  nearly 
eight  o'clock. 

This  was  the  first  time  that  Pascal  had  spent  a  night 
from  home  without  warning  his  mother  in  advance; 


116  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

and  such  an  act  on  the  part  of  a  man  of  his  character 
was  sufficient  proof  that  something  extraordinary  had 
occurred.  In  an  instant  all  the  dangers  that  lurk  in 
Paris  after  nightfall  flashed  through  her  mind.  She 
remembered  all  the  stories  she  had  read  of  men  decoyed 
into  dark  corners,  of  men  stabbed  at  the  turn  of  some 
deserted  street,  or  thrown  into  the  Seine  while  crossing 
'One  of  the  bridges.  What  should  she  do?  Her  first 
impulse  was  to  run  to  the  Commissary  of  Police's  office 
or  to  the  house  of  Pascal's  friend;  but  on  the  other 
hand,  she  dared  not  go  out,  for  fear  he  might  return 
in  her  absence.  Thus,  in  an  agony  of  suspense,  she 
waited — counting  the  seconds  by  the  quick  throbbings 
of  her  temples,  and  straining  her  ears  to  catch  the 
slightest  sound. 

At  last,  about  half-past  eight  o'clock,  she  heard  a 
heavy,  uncertain  footfall  on  the  stairs.  She  flew  to  the 
door  and  beheld  her  son.  His  clothes  were  torn  and 
disordered;  his  cravat  was  missing,  he  wore  no  over- 
coat, and  he  was  bareheaded.  He  looked  very 
pale,  and  his  teeth  were  chattering.  His  eyes  stared 
vacantly,  and  his  features  had  an  almost  idiotic  ex- 
pression. "  Pascal,  what  has  happened  to  you  ?  "  she 
asked. 

He  trembled  from  head  to  foot  as  the  sound  of  her 
voice  suddenly  roused  him  from  his  stupor.  "  Nothing," 
he  stammered;  "nothing  at  all."  And  as  his  mother 
pressed  him  with  questions,  he  pushed  her  gently  aside 
and  went  on  to  his  room. 

"  Poor  child ! "  murmured  Madame  Ferailleur,  at 
once  grieved  and  reassured;  "and  he  is  always  so 
temperate.  Some  one  must  have  forced  him  to  drink." 

She  was  entirely  wrong  in  her  surmise,  and  yet 
Pascal's  sensations  were  exactly  like  those  of  an  in- 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  117 

toxicated  man.  How  he  had  returned  home,  by  what 
road,  and  what  had  happened  on  the  way,  he  could  not 
tell.  He  had  found  his  way  back  mechanically,  merely 
by  force  of  habit — physical  memory,  as  it  might  be 
called.  He  had  a  vague  impression,  however,  that  he 
had  sat  down  for  some  time  on  a  bench  in  the  Champs- 
Elysees,  that  he  had  felt  extremely  cold,  and  that  he 
had  been  accosted  by  a  policeman,  who  threatened  him 
with  arrest  if  he  did  not  move  on.  The  last  thing  he 
could  clearly  recollect  was  rushing  from  Madame 
d'Argeles's  house  in  the  Rue  de  Berry.  He  knew 
that  he  had  descended  the  staircase  slowly  and  deliber- 
ately ;  that  the  servants  in  the  vestibule  had  stood  aside 
to  allow  him  to  pass ;  and  that,  while  crossing  the  court- 
yard, he  had  thrown  away  the  candelabrum  with  which 
he  had  defended  himself.  After  that,  he  remembered 
nothing  distinctly.  On  reaching  the  street  he  had  been 
overcome  by  the  fresh  air,  just  as  a  carouser  is  over- 
come on  emerging  from  a  heated  dining-room.  Per- 
haps the  champagne  which  he  had  drank  had  con- 
tributed to  this  cerebral  disorder.  At  all  events,  even 
now,  in  his  own  room,  seated  in  his  own  arm-chair,  and 
surrounded  by  familiar  objects,  he  did  not  succeed  in 
regaining  the  possession  of  his  faculties. 

He  had  barely  strength  enough  to  throw  himself  on 
to  the  bed,  and  in  a  moment  he  was  sleeping  with  that 
heavy  slumber  which  so  often  seizes  hold  of  one  on  the 
occasion  of  a  great  crisis,  and  which  has  so  frequently 
been  observed  among  persons  condemned  to  death,  on 
the  night  preceding  their  execution.  Four  or  five  times 
his  mother  came  to  listen  at  the  door.  Once  she  en- 
tered, and  seeing  her  son  sleeping  soundly,  she  could 
not  repress  a  smile  of  satisfaction.  "  Poor  Pascal !  " 
she  thought;  "he  can  bear  no  excess  but  excess  of 


118  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

work.     Heavens !  how  surprised  and  mortified  he  will 
foe  when  he  awakes ! " 

Alas !  it  was  not  a  trifling  mortification,  but  despair, 
which  awaited  the  sleeper  on  his  wakening;  for  the 
past,  the  present,  and  the  future  were  presented  simul- 
taneously and  visionlike  to  his  imagination.  Although 
he  had  scarcely  regained  the  full  use  of  his  faculties, 
he  was,  to  some  extent,  at  least  capable  of  reflection 
and  deliberation,  and  he  tried  to  look  the  situation 
bravely  in  the  face.  First,  as  to  the  past,  he  had  not 
the  shadow  of  a  doubt.  He  realized  that  he  had  fallen 
into  a  vile  trap,  and  the  person  who  had  laid  it  for  him 
was  undoubtedly  M.  de  Coralth,  who,  seated  at  his 
right,  had  prepared  the  "  hands  "  with  which  he  had 
won.  This  was  evident.  It  seemed  equally  proven 
that  Madame  d'Argeles  knew  the  real  culprit — possibly 
she  had  detected  him  in  the  act,  possibly  he  had  taken 
her  into  his  confidence.  But  what  he  could  not  fathom 
was  M.  de  Coralth's  motive.  What  could  have  prompted 
the  viscount  to  commit  such  an  atrocious  act?  The  in- 
centive must  have  been  very  powerful,  since  he  had 
naturally  incurred  the  danger  of  detection  and  of  being 
considered  an  accomplice  at  the  least.  And  then  what 
influence  had  closed  Madame  d'Argeles's  lips?  But 
after  all,  what  was  the  use  of  these  conjectures?  It 
was  an  actual,  unanswerable,  and  terrible  fact  that  this 
infamous  plot  had  been  successful,  and  that  Pascal  was 
dishonored.  He  was  honesty  itself,  and  yet  he  was 
accused — more  than  that,  convicted — of  cheating  at 
cards !  He  was  innocent,  and  yet  he  could  furnish  no 
proofs  of  his  innocence.  He  knew  the  real  culprit,  and 
yet  he  could  see  no  way  of  unmasking  him  or  even  of 
accusing  him.  Do  what  he  would,  this  atrocious,  in- 
comprehensive  calumny  would  crush  him.  The  bar  was 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  119 

closed  against  him ;  his  career  was  ended.  And  the 
terrible  conviction  that  there  was  no  escape  from  the 
abyss  into  which  he  had  fallen  made  his  reason  totter— 
he  felt  that  he  was  incapable  of  deciding  on  the  best 
course,  and  that  he  must  have  a  friend's  advice. 

Full  of  this  idea,  he  hastily  changed  his  clothes,  and 
hurried  from  his  room.  His  mother  was  watching  for 
him — inclined  to  laugh  at  him  a  little;  but  a  single 
glance  warned  her  that  her  son  was  in  terrible  trouble, 
and  that  some  dire  misfortune  had  certainly  befallen 
him.  "  Pascal,  in  heaven's  name,  what  has  happened  ?  " 
she  cried. 

"A  slight  difficulty — a  mere  trifle,"  he  replied. 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?  " 

"  To  the  Palais  de  Justice."  And  such  was  really 
the  case,  for  he  hoped  to  meet  his  most  intimate  friend 
there. 

Contrary  to  his  usual  custom,  he  took  the  little  stair- 
case on  the  right,  leading  to  the  grand  vestibule,  where 
several  lawyers  were  assembled,  earnestly  engaged  in 
conversation.  They  were  evidently  astonished  to  see 
Pascal,  and  their  conversation  abruptly  ceased  on  his 
approach.  They  assumed  a  grave  look  and  turned 
away  their  heads  in  disgust.  The  unfortunate  man  at 
once  realized  the  truth,  and  pressed  his  hand  to  his 
forehead,  with  a  despairing  gesture,  as  he  murmured: 
"  Already !— already  !  " 

However,  he  passed  on,  and  not  seeing  his  friend,  he 
hurried  to  the  little  conference  hall,  where  he  found 
five  of  his  fellow-advocates.  On  Pascal's  entrance,  two 
of  them  at  once  left  the  hall,  while  two  of  the  others 
pretended  to  be  very  busily  engaged  in  examining  a 
brief  which  lay  open  on  the  table.  The  fifth,  who  did 
not  move,  was  not  the  friend  Pascal  sought,  but  an  old 


120  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

college  comrade  named  Dartelle.  Pascal  walked 
straight  toward  him.  "  Well?  "  he  asked. 

Dartelle  handed  him  a  Figaro,  still  damp  from  the 
printing-press,  but  crumpled  and  worn,  as  if  it  had 
already  passed  through  more  than  a  hundred  hands. 
"  Read !  "  said  he. 

Pascal  read  as  follows :  "  There  was  great  sensation 
and  a  terrible  scandal  last  night  at  the  residence  of 
Madame  d'A ,  a  well-known  star  of  the  first  magni- 
tude. A  score  of  gentlemen  of  high  rank  and  immense 
wealth  were  enjoying  a  quiet  game  of  baccarat,  when  it 

Was  observed  that  M.  F was  winning  in  a  most 

extraordinary  manner.  He  was  watched  and  detected 
in  the  very  act  of  dexterously  slipping  some  cards  into 
the  pack  he  held.  Crushed  by  the  overpowering  evi- 
dence against  him,  he  allowed  himself  to  be  searched, 
and  without  much  demur  consented  to  refund  the  fruit 
of  his  knavery,  to  the  amount  of  two  thousand  louis. 
The  strangest  thing  connected  with  this  scandal  is,  that 

M.  F ,  who  is  an  advocate  by  profession,  has  always 

enjoyed  an  enviable  reputation  for  integrity;  and,  un- 
fortunately, this  prank  cannot  be  attributed  to  a  mo- 
mentary fit  of  madness,  for  the  fact  that  he  had  pro- 
vided himself  with  these  cards  in  advance  proves  the 
act  to  have  been  premeditated.  One  of  the  persons 
present  was  especially  displeased.  This  was  the  Vis- 
count de  C ,  who  had  introduced  M.  F to 

Madame  d'A .  Extremely  annoyed  by  this  contre- 
temps, he  took  umbrage  at  an  offensive  remark  made 
by  M.  de  R ,  and  it  was  rumored  that  these  gentle- 
men would  cross  swords  at  daybreak  this  morning. 


"LATER  INTELLIGENCE. — We  learn  at  the  moment 
of  going  to  press  that  an  encounter  has  just  taken  place 
between  M.  de  R and  M.  de  C .  M.  de  R 


THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS  121 

received  a  slight  wound  in  the  side,  but  his  condition  is 
sufficiently  satisfactory  not  to  alarm  his  friends." 

The  paper  slipped  from  Pascal's  hand.  His  features 
were  almost  unrecognizable  in  his  passion  and  despair. 
"  It  is  an  infamous  lie ! "  he  said,  hoarsely.  "  I  am 
innocent ;  I  swear  it  upon  my  honor  !  "  Dartelle  avert- 
ed his  face,  but  not  quickly  enough  to  prevent  Pascal 
from  noticing  the  look  of  withering  scorn  in  his  eyes. 
Then,  feeling  that  he  was  condemned,  that  his  sentence 
was  irrevocable,  and  that  there  was  no  longer  any  hope : 
"  I  know  the  only  thing  that  remains  for  me  to  do ! " 
he  murmured. 

Dartelle  turned,  his  eyes  glistening  with  tears.  He 
seized  Pascal's  hands  and  pressed  them  with  sorrowful 
tenderness,  as  if  taking  leave  of  a  friend  who  is  about 
to  die.  "  Courage  !  "  he  whispered. 

Pascal  fled  like  a  madman.  "  Yes,"  he  repeated,  as 
he  rushed  along  the  Boulevard  Saint-Michel,  "  that  is 
the  only  thing  left  me  to  do." 

When  he  reached  home  he  entered  his  office,  double- 
locked  the  door,  and  wrote  two  letters — one  to  his 
mother,  the  other  to  the  president  of  the  order  of 
Advocates.  After  a  moment's  thought  he  began  a  third, 
but  tore  it  into  pieces  before  he  had  completed  it.  Then, 
without  an  instant's  hesitation,  and  like  a  man  who 
had  fully  decided  upon  his  course,  he  took  a  revolver 
and  a  box  of  cartridges  from  a  drawer  in  his  desk. 
"  Poor  mother  !  "  he  murmured ;  "  it  will  kill  her — but 
my  disgrace  would  kill  her  too.  Better  shorten  the 
agony." 

He  little  fancied  at  that  supreme  moment  that  each 
of  his  gestures,  each  contraction  of  his  features,  were 
viewed  by  the  mother  whose  name  he  faltered.  Since 
her  son  had  left  her  to  go  to  the  Palais  de  Justice,  the 


122  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

poor  woman  had  remained  almost  crazy  with  anxiety; 
and  when  she  heard  him  return  and  lock  himself  in  his 
office — a  thing  he  had  never  done  before — a  fearful 
presentiment  was  aroused  in  her  mind.  Gliding  into 
her  son's  bedroom,,  she  at  once  approached  the  door 
communicating  with  his  office.  The  upper  part  of  this 
portal  was  of  glass ;  it  was  possible  to  see  what  was 
occurring  in  the  adjoining  room.  When  Madame 
Ferailleur  perceived  Pascal  seat  himself  at  his  desk  and 
begin  to  write,  she  felt  a  trifle  reassured,  and  almost 
thought  of  going  away.  But  a  vague  dread,  stronger 
than  reason  or  will,  riveted  her  to  the  spot.  A  few 
moments  later,  when  she  saw  the  revolver  in  her  son's 
hand,  she  understood  everything.  Her  blood  froze  in 
her  veins;  and  yet  she  had  sufficient  self-control  to  re- 
press the  cry  of  terror  which  sprang  to  her  lips.  She 
realized  that  the  danger  was  terrible,  imminent,  ex- 
treme. Her  heart,  rather  than  her  bewildered  reason, 
told  her  that  her  son's  life  hung  on  a  single  thread. 
The  slightest  sound,  a  word,  a  rap  on  the  door  might 
hasten  the  unfortunate  man's  deed. 

An  inspiration  from  heaven  came  to  the  poor  mother. 
Pascal  had  contented  himself  with  locking  the  door 
leading  to  the  ante-room.  He  had  forgotten  this  one, 
or  neglected  it,  not  thinking  that  anybody  would  ap- 
proach his  office  through  his  bedroom.  But  his  mother 
perceived  that  this  door  opened  toward  her.  So,  turning 
the  knob  with  the  utmost  caution,  she  flung  it  suddenly 
open,  and  reaching  her  son's  side  with  a  single  bound, 
she  clasped  him  closely  in  her  arms.  "  Pascal,  wretched 
boy!  what  would  you  do?" 

He  was  so  surprised  that  his  weapon  fell  from  his 
hand,  and  he  sank  back  almost  fainting  in  his  arm- 
chair. The  idea  of  denying  his  intention  never  once 


THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS  123 

occurred  to  him ;  besides,  he  was  unable  to  articulate  a 
word.  But  on  his  desk  there  lay  a  letter  addressed  to 
his  mother  which  would  speak  for  him. 

Madame  Ferailleur  took  it,  tore  the  envelope  open, 
and  read :  "  Forgive  me — I'm  about  to  die.  It  must  be 
so.  I  cannot  survive  dishonor ;  and  I  am  dishonored/' 

"  Dishonored ! — you  !  "  exclaimed  the  heartbroken 
mother.  "  My  God  !  what  does  this  mean  ?  Speak.  I 
implore  you :  tell  me  all — you  must.  I  command  you 
to  do  so.  I  command  you  !  " 

He  complied  with  this  at  once  supplicating  and  im- 
perious behest,  and  related  in  a  despairing  voice  the 
events  which  had  wrought  his  woe.  He  did  not  omit 
a  single  particular,  but  tried  rather  to  exaggerate  than 
palliate  the  horrors  of  his  situation.  Perhaps  he  found 
a  strange  satisfaction  in  proving  to  himself  that  there 
was  no  hope  left ;  possibly  he  believed  his  mother  would 
say :  "  Yes,  you  are  right ;  and  death  is  your  only 
refuge ! " 

As  Madame  Ferailleur  listened,  however,  her  eyes 
dilated  with  fear  and  horror,  and  she  scarcely  realized 
whether  she  were  awake  or  in  the  midst  of  some  fright- 
ful dream.  For  this  was  one  of  those  unexpected  catas- 
trophes which  are  beyond  the  range  of  human  foresight 
or  even  imagination,  and  which  her  mind  could  scarcely 
conceive  or  admit.  But  she  did  not  doubt  him,  even 
though  his  friends  had  doubted  him.  Indeed,  if  he  had 
himself  told  her  that  he  was  guilty  of  cheating  at  cards, 
she  would  have  refused  to  believe  him.  When  his  story 
was  ended,  she  exclaimed:  "And  you  wished  to  kill 
yourself?  Did  you  not  think,  senseless  boy,  that  your 
death  would  give  an  appearance  of  truth  to  this  vile 
calumny  ?  " 

With  a  mother's  wonderful,  sublime  instinct,  she  had 


124  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

found  the  most  powerful  reason  that  could  be  urged  to 
induce  Pascal  to  live.  "  Did  you  not  feel,  my  son,  that 
it  showed  a  lack  of  courage  on  your  part  to  brand  your- 
self and  your  name  with  eternal  infamy,  in  order  to 
escape  your  present  sufferings?  This  thought  ought 
to  have  stayed  your  hand.  An  honest  name  is  a  sacred 
trust  which  no  one  has  a  right  to  abuse.  Your  father 
bequeathed  it  to  you,  pure  and  untarnished,  and  so  you 
must  preserve  it.  If  others  try  to  cover  it  with  op- 
probrium, you  must  live  to  defend  it." 

He  lowered  his  head  despondently,  and  in  a  tone  of 
profound  discouragement,  he  replied :  "  But  what  can 
I  do?  How  can  I  escape  from  the  web  which  has  been 
woven  around  me  with  such  fiendish  cunning?  If  I 
had  possessed  my  usual  presence  of  mind  at  the  mo- 
ment of  the  accusation,  I  might  have  defended  and 
justified  myself,  perhaps.  But  now  the  misfortune  is 
irreparable.  How  can  I  unmask  the  traitor,  and  what 
proofs  of  his  guilt  can  I  cast  in  his  face  ?  " 

"  All  the  same,  you  ought  not  to  yield  without  a 
struggle/'  interrupted  Madame  Ferailleur,  sternly.  "  It 
is  wrong  to  abandon  a  task  because  it  is  difficult;  it 
must  be  accepted,  and,  even  if  one  perish  in  the  strug- 
gle, there  is,  at  least,  the  satisfaction  of  feeling  that 
one  has  not  failed  in  duty." 

"  But,  mother " 

"  I  must  not  keep  the  truth  from  you,  Pascal !  What ! 
are  you  lacking  in  energy?  Come,  my  son,  rise  and 
raise  your  head.  I  shall  not  let  you  fight  alone.  I 
will  fight  with  you." 

Without  speaking  a  word,  Pascal  caught  hold  of  his 
mother's  hands  and  pressed  them  to  his  lips.  His  face 
was  wet  with  tears.  His  overstrained  nerves  relaxed 
under  the  soothing  influence  of  maternal  tenderness  and 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  125 

devotion.  Reason,  too,  had  regained  her  ascendency. 
His  mother's  noble  words  found  an  echo  in  his  own 
heart,  and  he  now  looked  upon  suicide  as  an  act  of 
madness  and  cowardice.  Madame  Ferailleur  felt  that 
the  victory  was  assured,  but  this  did  not  suffice;  she 
wished  to  enlist  Pascal  in  her  plans.  "  It  is  evident," 
she  resumed,  "  that  M.  de  Coralth  is  the  author  of  this 
abominable  plot.  But  what  could  have  been  his  object? 
Has  he  any  reason  to  fear  you,  Pascal?  Has  he  con- 
fided to  you,  or  have  you  discovered,  any  secret  that 
might  ruin  him  if  it  were  divulged  ?  " 

"  No,  mother." 

"  Then  he  must  be  the  vile  instrument  of  some  even 
more  despicable  being.  Reflect,  my  son.  Have  you 
wounded  any  of  your  friends?  Are  you  sure  that  you 
are  in  nobody's  way?  Consider  carefully.  Your  pro- 
fession has  its  dangers;  and  those  who  adopt  it  must 
expect  to  make  bitter  enemies." 

Pascal  trembled.  It  seemed  to  him  as  if  a  ray  of 
light  at  last  illumined  the  darkness — a  dim  and  uncer- 
tain ray,  it  is  true,  but  still  a  gleam  of  light. 

"  Who  knows  !  "  he  muttered ;  "  who  knows  !  " 

Madame  Ferailleur  reflected  a  few  moments,  and  the 
nature  of  her  reflections  brought  a  flush  to  her  brow. 
"This  is  one  of  those  cases  in  which  a  mother  should 
overstep  reserve,"  said  she.  "If  you  had  a  mistress, 
my  son " 

"  I  have  none,"  he  answered,  promptly.  Then  his 
own  face  flushed,  and  after  an  instant's  hesitation,  he 
added :  "  But  I  entertain  the  most  profound  and  rever- 
ent love  for  a  young  girl,  the  most  beautiful  and  chaste 
being  on  earth — a  girl  who,  in  intelligence  and  heart,  is 
worthy  of  you,  my  own  mother." 

Madame   Ferailleur   nodded  her  head   gravely,   as 


126  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

much  as  to  say  that  she  had  expected  to  find  a  woman 
at  the  bottom  of  the  mystery.  "  And  who  is  this  young 
girl  ?  "  she  inquired.  "  What  is  her  name  ?  " 

"  Marguerite." 

"  Marguerite  who  ?  " 

Pascal's  embarrassment  increased.  "  She  has  no 
other  name/'  he  replied,  hurriedly,  "  and  she  does  not 
know  her  parents.  She  formerly  lived  in  our  street 
with  her  companion,  Madame  Leon,  and  an  old  female 
servant.  It  was  there  that  I  saw  her  for  the  first  time. 
She  now  lives  in  the  house  of  the  Count  de  Chalusse, 
in  the  Rue  de  Courcelles." 

"  In  what  capacity  ?  " 

"  The  count  has  always  taken  care  of  her — she  owes 
her  education  to  him.  He  acts  as  her  guardian;  and 
although  she  has  never  spoken  to  me  on  the  subject, 
I  fancy  that  the  Count  de  Chalusse  is  her  father." 

"  And  does  this  girl  love  you,  Pascal  ?  " 

"  I  believe  so,  mother.  She  has  promised  me  that 
she  will  have  no  other  husband  than  myself." 

"And  the  count?" 

"  He  doesn't  know — he  doesn't  even  suspect  any- 
thing about  it.  Day  after  day  I  have  been  trying  to 
gather  courage  to  tell  you  everything,  and  to  ask  you 
to  go  to  the  Count  de  Chalusse.  But  my  position  is  so 
modest  as  yet.  The  count  is  immensely  rich,  and  he 
intends  to  give  Marguerite  an  enormous  fortune — two 
millions,  I  believe " 

Madame  Ferailleur  interrupted  him  with  a  gesture. 
<e  Look  no  further/'  she  said ;  "  you  have  found  the 
explanation." 

Pascal  sprang  to  his  feet  with  crimson  cheeks,  flam- 
ing eyes,  and  quivering  lips.  "  It  may  be  so,"  he  ex- 
claimed ;  "  it  may  be  so !  The  count's  immense  fortune 


THE    C'UUNT'S    MILLIONS  127 

may  have  tempted  some  miserable  scoundrel.  Who 
knows  but  some  one  may  have  been  watching  Mar- 
guerite, and  have  discovered  that  I  am  an  obstacle?" 

"  Something  told  me  that  my  suspicions  were  cor- 
rect/' said  Madame  Ferailleur.  "  I  had  no  proofs, 
and  yet  I  felt  sure  of  it." 

Pascal  was  absorbed  in  thought.  "  And  what  a 
strange  coincidence/'  he  eventually  remarked.  "  Do 
you  know,  the  last  time  I  saw  Marguerite,  a  week  ago, 
she  seemed  so  sad  and  anxious  that  I  felt  alarmed.  I 
questioned  her,  but  at  first  she  would  not  answer. 
After  a  little  while,  however,  as  I  insisted,  she  said: 
'  Ah,  well,  I  fear  the  count  is  planning  a  marriage  for 
me.  M.  de  Chalusse  has  not  said  a  word  to  me  on  the 
subject,  but  he  has  recently  had  several  long  confer- 
ences in  private  with  a  young  man  whose  father  ren- 
dered him  a  great  service  in  former  years.  And  this 
young  man,  whenever  I  meet  him,  looks  at  me  in  such 
a  peculiar  manner.' '; 

"  What  is  his  name  ?  "  asked  Madame  Ferailleur. 

"  I  don't  know — she  didn't  mention  it ;  and  her  words 
so  disturbed  me  that  I  did  not  think  of  asking.  But  she 
will  tell  me.  This  evening,  if  I  don't  succeed  in  ob- 
taining an  interview,  I  will  write  to  her.  If  your 
suspicions  are  correct,  mother,  our  secret  is  in  the 
hands  of  three  persons,  and  so  it  is  a  secret  no 
longer " 

He  paused  suddenly  to  listen.  The  noise  of  a  spir- 
ited altercation  between  the  servant  and  some  visitor, 
came  from  the  ante-room.  "I  tell  you  that  he  is  at 
home/'  said  some  one  in  a  panting  voice,  "  and  I 
must  see  him  and  speak  with  him  at  once.  It  is  such 
an  urgent  matter  that  I  left  a  card-party  just  at  the 
most  critical  moment  to  come  here." 


128  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

"  I  assure  you,  monsieur,,  that  M.  Ferailleur  has  gone 
out." 

"  Very  well ;  I  will  wait  for  him,  then.  Take  me  to 
a  room  where  I  can  sit  down/' 

Pascal  turned  pale,  for  he  recognized  the  voice  of 
the  individual  who  had  suggested  searching  him  at 
Madame  d'Argeles's  house.  Nevertheless,  he  opened 
the  door ;  and  a  man,  with  a  face  like  a  full  moon,  and 
who  was  puffing  and  panting  like  a  locomotive,  came 
forward  with  the  assurance  of  a  person  who  thinks  he 
may  do  anything  he  chooses  by  reason  of  his  wealth. 
"  Zounds  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  I  knew  perfectly  well  that 
you  were  here.  You  don't  recognize  me,  perhaps,  my 
dear  sir.  I  am  Baron  Trigault — I  came  to " 

The  words  died  away  on  his  lips,  and  he  became  as 
embarrassed  as  if  he  had  not  possessed  an  income  of 
eight  hundred  thousand  francs  a  year.  The  fact  is  he 
had  just  perceived  Madame  Ferailleur.  He  bowed  to 
her,  and  then,  with  a  significant  glance  at  Pascal  he 
said :  "  I  should  like  to  speak  to  you  in  private,  mon- 
sieur, in  reference  to  a  matter " 

Great  as  was  Pascal's  astonishment,  he  showed  none 
of  it  on  his  face.  "  You  can  speak  in  my  mother's 
presence/'  he  replied,  coldly ;  "  she  knows  everything." 

The  baron's  surprise  found  vent  in  a  positive  distor- 
tion of  his  features.  <e  Ah !  "  said  he,  in  three  different 
tones ;  "  ah !  ah !  "  And  as  no  one  had  offered  him  a 
seat,  he  approached  an  arm-chair  and  took  possession 
of  it,  exclaiming,  "  You  will  allow  me,  I  trust  ?  Those 
stairs  have  put  me  in  such  a  state ! " 

In  spite  of  his  unwieldy  appearance,  this  wealthy 
man  was  endowed  with  great  natural  shrewdness  and 
an  unusually  active  mind.  And  while  he  pretended  to 
be  engaged  in  recovering  his  breath  he  studied  the  room 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  129 

and  its  occupants.  A  revolver  was  lying  on  the  floor 
beside  a  torn  and  crumpled  letter,  and  tears  were  still 
glittering  in  the  eyes  of  Madame  Ferailleur  and  her 
son.  A  keen  observer  needed  no  further  explanation 
of  the  scene. 

"  I  will  not  conceal  from  you,  monsieur/'  began  the 
baron,,  "  that  I  have  been  led  here  by  certain  compunc- 
tions of  conscience."  And,  misinterpreting  a  gesture 
which  Pascal  made,  "  I  mean  what  I  say,"  he  con- 
tinued ;  "  compunctions  of  conscience.  I  have  them  oc- 
casionally. Your  departure  this  morning,  after  that — • 
deplorable  scene,  caused  certain  doubts  and  suspicions 
to  arise  in  my  mind ;  and  I  said  to  myself,  '  We  have 
been  too  hasty;  perhaps  this  young  man  may  not  be 
guilty.'" 

66  Monsieur !  "  interrupted  Pascal,  in  a  threatening 
tone. 

"  Excuse  me,  allow  me  to  finish,  if  you  please.  Re- 
flection, I  must  confess,  only  confirmed  this  impression, 
and  increased  my  doubts.  '  The  devil ! '  I  said  to  my- 
self again ;  '  if  this  young  man  is  innocent,  the  culprit 
must  be  one  of  the  habitues  of  Madame  d'Argeles's 
house — that  is  to  say,  a  man  with  whom  I  play  twice 
a  week,  and  whom  I  shall  play  with  again  next  Mon- 
day/ And  then  I  became  uneasy,  and  here  I  am ! " 
Was  the  absurd  reason  which  the  baron  gave  for  his 
visit  the  true  one  ?  It  was  difficult  to  decide.  "  I 
came,"  he  continued,  "thinking  that  a  look  at  your 
home  would  teach  me  something;  and  now  I  have  seen 
it,  I  am  ready  to  take  my  oath  that  you  are  the  victim 
of  a  vile  conspiracy." 

So  saying  he  noisily  blew  his  nose,  but  this  did  not 
prevent  him  from  observing  the  quiet  joy  of  Pascal  and 
his  mother.  They  were  amazed.  But  although  these 


130  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

words  were  calculated  to  make  them  feel  intensely 
happy,  they  still  looked  at  their  visitor  with  distrust. 
It  is  not  natural  for  a  person  to  interest  himself  in 
other  people's  misfortunes,  unless  he  has  some  special 
motive  for  doing  so ;  and  what  could  this  singular  man's 
object  be? 

However,  he  did  not  seem  in  the  slightest  degree  dis- 
concerted by  the  glacial  reserve  with  which  his  ad- 
vances were  received.  "  It  is  clear  that  you  are  in 
some  one's  way,"  he  resumed,  "  and  that  this  some  one 
has  invented  this  method  of  ruining  you.  There  can  be 
no  question  about  it.  The  intention  became  manifest  to 
my  mind  the  moment  I  read  the  paragraph  concerning 
you  in  the  Figaro.  Have  you  seen  it?  Yes?  Well, 
what  do  you  think  of  it?  I  would  be  willing  to  swear 
that  it  was  written  from  notes  furnished  by  your  enemy. 
Moreover,  the  particulars  are  incorrect,  and  I  am  going 
to  write  a  line  of  correction  which  I  shall  take  to  the 
office  myself."  So  saying  he  transported  his  unwieldy 
person  to  Pascal's  desk,  and  hastily  wrote  as  follows: 

"  MR.  EDITOR, 

<(  As  a  witness  of  the  scene  that  took  place  at  Madame 
d'A s's  house  last  night,  allow  me  to  make  an  im- 
portant correction.  It  is  only  too  true  that  extra  cards 
were  introduced  into  the  pack,  but  that  they  were  intro- 
duced by  M.  F is  not  proven,  since  he  was  not 

seen  to  do  it.  I  know  that  appearances  are  against 
him,  but  he  nevertheless  possesses  my  entire  confidence 
and  esteem. 

"BARON  TRIGAULT." 

Meanwhile  Madame  Ferailleur  and  her  son  had  ex- 
changed significant  glances.  Their  impressions  were 
the  same.  This  man  could  not  be  an  enemy.  When 
the  baron  had  finished  his  letter,  and  had  read  it  aloud, 


THE   COUNT'S    MILLIONS  131 

Pascal,  who  was  deeply  moved,  exclaimed :  "  I  do  not 
know  how  to  express  my  gratitude  to  you,  monsieur; 
but  if  you  really  wish  to  serve  me,  pray  don't  send  that 
note.  It  would  cause  you  a  great  deal  of  trouble  and 
annoyance,  and  I  should  none  the  less  be  obliged  to 
relinquish  the  practice  of  my  profession — besides,  I  am 
especially  anxious  to  be  forgotten  for  a  time." 

"  So  be  it — I  understand  you ;  you  hope  to  discover 
the  traitor,  and  you  do  not  wish  to  put  him  on  his 
guard.  I  approve  of  your  prudence.  But  remember 
my  words :  if  you  ever  need  a  helping  hand,  rap  at 
my  door;  and  when  you  hold  the  necessary  proofs,  I 
will  furnish  you  with  the  means  of  rendering  your 
justification  even  more  startling  than  the  affront."  He 
prepared  to  go,  but  before  crossing  the  threshold,  he 
turned  and  said :  "  In  future  I  shall  watch  the  fingers 
of  the  player  who  sits  on  my  left  hand.  And  if  I 
were  in  your  place,  I  would  obtain  the  notes  from  which 
that  newspaper  article  was  written.  One  never  knows 
the  benefit  that  may  be  derived,  at  a  certain  moment, 
from  a  page  of  writing." 

As  he  started  off,  Madame  Ferailleur  sprang  from 
her  chair.  "  Pascal,"  she  exclaimed,  "  that  man  knows 
something,  and  your  enemies  are  his ;  I  read  it  in  his 
eyes.  He,  too,  distrusts  M.  de  Coralth." 

"  I  understood  him,  mother,  and  my  mind  is  made 
up.  I  must  disappear.  From  this  moment  Pascal 

Ferailleur  no  longer  exists." 

*  #  *  *  # 

That  same  evening  two  large  vans  were  standing 
outside  Madame  Ferailleur's  house.  She  had  sold  her 
furniture  without  reserve,  and  was  starting  to  join  her 
son,  who  had  already  left  for  Le  Havre,  she  said,  in 
view  of  sailing  to  America. 


132  THE   COUNTS    MILLIONS 


VI. 


"THERE  are  a  number  of  patients  waiting  for  me.  I 
will  drop  in  again  about  midnight.  I  still  have  several 
urgent  visits  to  make."  Thus  had  Dr.  Jodon  spoken 
to  Mademoiselle  Marguerite ;  and  yet,  when  he  left  the 
Hotel  de  Chalusse,  after  assuring  himself  that  Casimir 
would  have  some  straw  spread  over  the  street,  the  doc- 
tor quietly  walked  home.  The  visits  he  had  spoken  of 
merely  existed  in  his  imagination ;  but  it  was  a  part  of 
his  role  to  appear  to  be  overrun  with  patients.  To  tell 
the  truth,  the  only  patient  he  had  had  to  attend  to  that 
week  was  a  superannuated  porter,  living  in  the  Rue  de 
la  Pepiniere,  and  whom  he  visited  twice  a  day,  for  want 
of  something  better  to  do.  The  remainder  of  his  time 
was  spent  in  waiting  for  patients  who  never  came,  and 
in  cursing  the  profession  of  medicine,  which  was  ruined, 
he  declared,  by  excessive  competition,  combined  with 
certain  rules  of  decorum  which  hampered  young  prac- 
titioners beyond  endurance, 

However,  if  Dr.  Jodon  had  devoted  one-half  of  the 
time  he  spent  in  cursing  and  building  castles  in  the  air 
to  study,  he  might  have,  perhaps,  raised  his  little  skill 
to  the  height  of  his  immense  ambition.  But  neither 
work  nor  patience  formed  any  part  of  his  system.  He 
was  a  man  of  the  present  age,  and  wished  to  rise 
speedily  with  as  little  trouble  as  possible.  A  certain 
amount  of  display  and  assurance,  a  little  luck,  and  a 
good  deal  of  advertising  would,  in  his  opinion,  suffice 
to  bring  about  this  result.  It  was  with  this  conviction, 
indeed,  that  he  had  taken  up  his  abode  in  the  Rue  de 
Courcelles,  situated  in  one  of  the  most  aristocratic  quar- 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  133 

ters  of  Paris.  But  so  far,  events  had  shown  his  theory 
to  be  incorrect.  In  spite  of  the  greatest  economy,  very 
cleverly  concealed,  he  had  seen  the  little  capital  which 
constituted  his  entire  fortune  dwindle  away.  He  had 
originally  possessed  but  twenty  thousand  francs,  a  sum 
which  in  no  wise  corresponded  with  his  lofty  preten- 
sions. He  had  paid  his  rent  that  very  morning ;  and  he 
could  not  close  his  eyes  to  the  fact  that  the  time  was 
near  at  hand  when  he  would  be  unable  to  pay  it.  What 
should  he  do  then?  When  he  thought  of  this  con- 
tingency, and  it  was  a  subject  that  filled  his  mind  to 
the  exclusion  of  all  other  matters,  he  felt  the  fires  of 
wrath  and  hatred  kindle  in  his  soul.  He  utterly  refused 
to  regard  himself  as  the  cause  of  his  own  misfortunes ; 
on  the  contrary,  following  the  example  of  many  other 
disappointed  individuals,  he  railed  at  mankind  and 
everything  in  general — at  circumstances,  envious  ac- 
quaintances, and  enemies,  whom  he  certainly  did  not 
possess. 

At  times  he  was  capable  of  doing  almost  anything  to 
gratify  his  lust  for  gold,  for  the  privations  which  he 
had  endured  so  long  were  like  oil  cast  upon  the  flame 
of  covetousness  which  was  ever  burning  in  his  breast. 
In  calmer  moments  he  asked  himself  at  what  other 
door  he  could  knock,  in  view  of  hastening  the  arrival 
of  Fortune.  Sometimes  he  thought  of  turning  dentist, 
or  of  trying  to  find  some  capitalist  who  would  join 
him  in  manufacturing  one  of  those  patent  medicines 
which  are  warranted  to  yield  their  promoters  a  hundred 
thousand  francs  a  year.  On  other  occasions  he  dreamed  of 
establishing  a  monster  pharmacy,  or  of  opening  a  pri- 
vate hospital.  But  money  was  needed  to  carry  out  any 
one  of  these  plans,  and  he  had  no  money.  There  was 
the  rub.  However,  the  time  was  fast  approaching  when 


134  THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS 

he  must  decide  upon  his  course;  he  could  not  possibly 
hold  out  much  longer. 

His  third  year  of  practice  in  the  Rue  de  Courcelles 
had  not  yielded  him  enough  to  pay  his  servant's  wages. 
For  he  had  a  servant,  of  course.  He  had  a  valet  for 
the  same  reason  as  he  had  a  suite  of  rooms  of  a  super- 
ficially sumptuous  aspect.  Faithful  to  his  system,  or, 
rather,  to  his  master's  system,  he  had  sacrificed  every- 
thing to  show.  The  display  of  gilding  in  his  apart- 
ments was  such  as  to  make  a  man  of  taste  shut  his 
eyes  to  escape  the  sight  of  it.  There  were  gorgeous 
carpets  and  hangings,  frescoed  ceilings,  spurious  objects 
of  virtu,  and  pier-tables  loaded  with  ornaments.  An 
unsophisticated  youth  from  the  country  would  certainly 
have  been  dazzled;  but  it  would  not  do  to  examine 
these  things  too  closely-  There  was  more  cotton  than 
silk  in  the  velvet  covering  of  the  furniture;  and  if 
various  statuettes  placed  on  brackets  at  a  certain  height 
had  been  closely  inspected,  it  would  have  been  found 
that  they  were  of  mere  plaster,  hidden  beneath  a  coat- 
ing of  green  paint,  sprinkled  with  copper  filings.  This 
plaster,  playing  the  part  of  bronze,  was  in  perfect 
keeping  with  the  man,  his  system,  and  the  present 
age. 

When  the  doctor  reached  home,  his  first  question  ta 
his  servant  was  as  usual :  "  Has  any  one  called  ?  " 

"  No  one." 

The  doctor  sighed,  and  passing  through  his  superb 
waiting-room,  he  entered  his  consulting  sanctum,  and 
seated  himself  in  the  chimney  corner  beside  an  infini- 
tesimal fire.  He  was  even  more  thoughtful  than  usual. 
The  scene  which  he  had  just  witnessed  at  the  Count 
de  Chalusse's  house  recurred  to  his  mind,  and  he  turned 
it  over  and  over  again  in  his  brain,  striving  to  find 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  135 

some  way  by  which  he  might  derive  an  advantage  from 
the  mystery.  For  he  was  more  than  ever  convinced 
that  there  was  a  mystery.  He  had  been  engrossed  in 
these  thoughts  for  some  time,  when  his  meditations 
were  disturbed  by  a  ring  at  the  bell.  Who  could  be 
calling  at  this  hour? 

The  question  was  answered  by  his  servant,  who  ap- 
peared and  informed  him  that  a  lady,  who  was  in  a 
great  hurry,  was  waiting  in  the  reception-room.  "  Very 
well/'  was  his  reply;  "but  it  is  best  to  let  her  wait  a 
few  moments."  For  he  had  at  least  this  merit:  he 
never  deviated  from  his  system.  Under  no  circum- 
stances whatever  would  he  have  admitted  a  patient 
immediately;  he  wished  him  to  wait  so  that  he  might 
have  an  opportunity  of  reflecting  on  the  advantages  of 
consulting  a  physician  whose  time  was  constantly  oc- 
cupied. 

However,  when  ten  minutes  or  so  had  elapsed,  he 
opened  the  door,  and  a  tall  lady  came  quickly  forward, 
throwing  back  the  veil  which  had  concealed  her  face. 
She  must  have  been  over  forty-five;  and  if  she  had 
ever  been  handsome,  there  was  nothing  to  indicate  it 
now.  She  had  brown  hair,  thickly  sprinkled  with  gray, 
but  very  coarse  and  abundant,  and  growing  low  over 
her  forehead;  her  nose  was  broad  and  flat;  her  lips 
were  thick,  and  her  eyes  were  dull  and  expressionless. 
However,  her  manners  were  gentle  and  rather  melan- 
choly; and  one  would  have  judged  her  to  be  somewhat 
of  a  devotee.  Still  for  the  time  being  she  seemed 
greatly  agitated.  She  seated  herself  at  the  doctor's 
invitation;  and  without  waiting  for  him  to  ask  any 
questions :  "  I  ought  to  tell  you  at  once,  monsieur,"  she 
began,  "that  I  am  the  Count  de  Chalusse's  house- 
keeper." 


136  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

In  spite  of  his  self-control,  the  doctor  bounded  from 
his  chair.  "  Madame  Leon  ?  "  he  asked,  in  a  tone  of 
intense  surprise. 

She  bowed,  compressing  her  thick  lips.  "  I  am  known 
by  that  name — yes,  monsieur.  But  it  is  only  my 
Christian  name.  The  one  I  have  a  right  to  bear  would 
not  accord  with  my  present  position.  Reverses  of  for- 
tune are  not  rare  in  these  days ;  and  were  it  not  for  the 
consoling  influences  of  religion,  one  would  not  have 
strength  to  endure  them/' 

The  physician  was  greatly  puzzled.  "  What  can  she 
want  of  me  ?  "  he  thought. 

Meanwhile,  she  had  resumed  speaking :  "  I  was 
much  reduced  in  circumstances — at  the  end  of  my  re- 
sources, indeed — when  M.  de  Chalusse — a  family  friend 
— requested  me  to  act  as  companion  to  a  young  girl 
in  whom  he  was  interested — Mademoiselle  Marguerite. 
I  accepted  the  position;  and  I  thank  God  every  day 
that  I  did  so,  for  I  feel  a  mother's  affection  for  this 
young  girl,  and  she  loves  me  as  fondly  as  if  she  were 
my  own  daughter."  In  support  of  her  assertion,  she 
drew  a  handkerchief  from  her  pocket,  and  succeeded  in 
forcing  a  few  tears  to  her  eyes.  "Under  these  cir- 
cumstances, doctor,"  she  continued,  "you  cannot  fail 
to  understand  that  the  interests  of  my  dearly  beloved 
Marguerite  bring  me  to  you.  I  was  shut  up  in  my 
own  room  when  M.  de  Chalusse  was  brought  home, 
and  I  did  not  hear  of  his  illness  until  after  your  de- 
parture. Perhaps  you  might  say  that  I  ought  to  have 
waited  until  your  next  visit;  but  I  had  not  sufficient 
patience  to  do  so.  One  cannot  submit  without  a  strug- 
gle to  the  torture  of  suspense,  when  the  future  of  a 
beloved  daughter  is  at  stake.  So  here  I  am."  She 
paused  to  take  breath,  and  then  added,  "  I  have  come, 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  137 

monsieur,  to  ask  you  to  tell  me  the  exact  truth  respect- 
ing the  count's  condition." 

The  doctor  was  expecting  something  very  different, 
but  nevertheless  he  replied  with  all  due  gravity  and 
self-possession.  "  It  is  my  painful  duty  to  tell  you, 
madame,  that  there  is  scarcely  any  hope,  and  that  I 
expect  a  fatal  termination  within  twenty-four  hours, 
unless  the  patient  should  regain  consciousness/' 

The  housekeeper  turned  pale.  "Then  all  is  lost," 
she  faltered,  "  all  is  lost ! "  And  unable  to  articulate 
another  word  she  rose  to  her  feet,  bowed,  and  abruptly 
left  the  room. 

Before  the  grate,  with  his  mouth  half  open,  and  his 
right  arm  extended  in  an  interrupted  gesture,  the  doc- 
tor stood  speechless  and  disconcerted.  It  was  only 
when  the  outer  door  closed  with  a  bang  that  he  seemed 
restored  to  consciousness.  And  as  he  heard  the  noise 
he  sprang  forward  as  if  to  recall  his  visitor.  "  Ah !  " 
he  exclaimed,  with  an  oath,  "  the  miserable  old  woman 
was  mocking  me  !  "  And  urged  on  by  a  wild,  irrational 
impulse,  he  caught  up  his  hat  and  darted  out  in  pur- 
suit. Madame  Leon  was  considerably  in  advance  of 
him,  and  was  walking  very  quickly;  still,  by  quicken- 
ing his  pace,  he  might  have  overtaken  her.  However, 
he  did  not  join  her,  for  he  scarcely  knew  what  excuse 
to  offer  for  such  a  strange  proceeding;  he  contented 
himself  by  cautiously  following  her  at  a  little  distance. 
Suddenly  she  stopped  short.  It  was  in  front  of  a 
tobacconist's  shop,  where  there  was  a  post-office  letter- 
box. The  shop  was  closed,  but  the  box  was  there  with 
its  little  slit  for  letters  to  be  dropped  into  it.  Madame 
Leon  evidently  hesitated.  She  paused,  as  one  always 
does  before  venturing  upon  a  decisive  act,  from  which 
there  will  be  no  return,  whatever  may  be  the  conse- 


138  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

quences.  An  observer  never  remains  twenty  minutes 
before  a  letter-box  without  witnessing  this  pantomime 
so  expressive  of  irresolution.  At  last,  however,  she 
shrugged  her  shoulders  with  a  gesture  which  eloquently 
expressed  the  result  of  her  deliberations ;  and  drawing 
a  letter  from  her  bosom,  she  dropped  it  into  the  box, 
and  then  hastened  on  more  quickly  than  before. 

"  There  is  not  the  slightest  doubt/'  thought  the  doc- 
tor, "  that  letter  had  been  prepared  in  advance,  and 
whether  it  should  be  sent  or  not  depended  on  the  an- 
swer I  gave/' 

We  have  already  said  that  M.  Jodon  was  not  a 
wealthy  man,,  and  yet  he  would  willingly  have  given  a 
hundred-franc  note  to  have  known  the  contents  of  this 
letter,  or  even  the  name  of  the  person  to  whom  it  was 
addressed.  But  his  chase  was  almost  ended.  Madame 
Leon  had  reached  the  Hotel  de  Chalusse,  and  now  went 
in.  Should  he  follow  her  ?  His  curiosity  was  torturing 
him  to  such  a  degree  that  he  had  an  idea  of  doing  so; 
and  it  required  an  heroic  effort  of  will  to  resist  the 
temptation  successfully.  But  a  gleam  of  common  sense 
warned  him  that  this  would  be  a  terrible  blunder.  Once 
already  during  the  evening  his  conduct  had  attracted 
attention;  and  he  began  to  realize  that  there  was  a 
better  way  of  winning  confidence  than  by  intruding 
almost  forcibly  into  other  people's  affairs.  Accordingly 
he  thoughtfully  retraced  his  steps,  feeling  intensely 
disgusted  with  himself.  "  What  a  fool  I  am ! "  he 
grumbled.  "  If  I  had  kept  the  old  woman  in  suspense, 
instead  of  blurting  out  the  truth,  I  might  have  learned 
the  real  object  of  her  visit;  for  she  had  an  object.  But 
what  was  it  ?  " 

The  doctor  spent  the  two  hours  that  remained  to  him 
before  making  his  second  visit  in  trying  to  discover  it. 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  139 

But,,  although  nothing  prevented  him  from  exploring  the 
boundless  fields  of  improbable  possibilities,  he  could 
think  of  nothing  satisfactory.  There  was  only  one  cer- 
tain point,  that  Madame  Leon  and  Mademoiselle  Mar- 
guerite were  equally  interested  in  the  question  as  to 
whether  the  count  would  regain  consciousness  or  not. 
As  to  their  interests  in  the  matter,  the  doctor  felt  confi- 
dent that  they  were  not  identical;  he  was  persuaded 
that  a  secret  enmity  existed  between  them,  and  that  the 
housekeeper  had  visited  him  without  Mademoiselle 
Marguerite's  knowledge.  For  he  was  not  deceived  by 
Madame  Leon,  or  by  her  pretended  devotion  to  Mad- 
emoiselle Marguerite.  Her  manner,  her  smooth  words, 
her  tone  of  pious  resignation,  and  the  allusion  to  the 
grand  name  she  had  the  right  to  bear,  were  all  calcu- 
lated to  impose  upon  one;  but  she  had  been  too  much 
disconcerted  toward  the  last  to  remember  her  part. 
Dr.  Jodon  lacked  the  courage  to  return  to  his  sumptu- 
ous rooms,  and  it  was  in  a  little  cafe  that  he  thus 
reflected  upon  the  situation,  while  drinking  some  ex- 
ecrable beer  brewed  in  Paris  out  of  a  glass  manufac- 
tured in  Bavaria. 

At  last  midnight  sounded — the  hour  had  come.  Still 
the  doctor  did  not  move.  Having  been  obliged  to  wait 
himself,  he  wished,  in  revenge,  to  make  the  others  wait, 
and  it  was  not  until  the  cafe  closed  that  he  again  walked 
up  the  Rue  de  Courcelles.  Madame  Leon  had  left  the 
gate  ajar,  and  the  doctor  had  no  difficulty  in  making  his 
way  into  the  courtyard.  As  in  the  earlier  part  of  the 
evening,  the  servants  were  assembled  in  the  concierge's 
lodge;  but  the  careless  gayety  which  shone  upon  their 
faces  a  few  hours  before  had  given  place  to  evident 
anxiety  respecting  their  future  prospects.  Through  the 
windows  of  the  lodge  they  could  be  seen  standing  round 


140  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

the  two  choice  spirits  of  the  household,  M.  Bourigeau, 
the  concierge,  and  M.  Casimir,  the  valet,  who  were  en- 
gaged in  earnest  conversation.  And  if  the  doctor  had 
listened,  he  would  have  heard  such  words  as  "  wages," 
and  "  legacies/'  and  "  remuneration  for  faithful  ser- 
vice," and  "  annuities  "  repeated  over  and  over  again. 

But  M.  Jodon  did  not  listen.  Thinking  he  should 
find  some  servant  inside,  he  entered  the  house.  How- 
ever, there  was  nobody  to  announce  his  presence;  the 
door  closed  noiselessly  behind  him,  the  heavy  carpet 
which  covered  the  marble  steps  stifled  the  sound  of  his 
footsteps,  and  he  ascended  the  first  flight  without  seeing 
any  one.  The  door  opening  into  the  count's  room  was 
open,  the  room  itself  being  brilliantly  lighted  by  a  large 
fire,  and  a  lamp  which  stood  on  a  corner  of  the  mantel- 
shelf. Instinctively  the  doctor  paused  and  looked  in. 
There  had  been  no  change  since  his  first  visit.  The 
count  w/as  still  lying  motionless  on  his  pillows ;  his  face 
was  swollen,  his  eyelids  were  closed,  but  he  still 
breathed,  as  was  shown  by  the  regular  movement  of 
the  covering  over  his  chest.  Madame  Leon  and  Mad- 
emoiselle Marguerite  were  his  only  attendants.  The 
housekeeper,  who  sat  back  a  little  in  the  shade,  was 
half  reclining  in  an  arm-chair  with  her  hands  clasped 
in  her  lap,  her  lips  firmly  compressed,  and  her  eyes 
fixed  upon  vacancy.  Pale  but  calm,  and  more  imposing 
and  more  beautiful  than  ever,  Mademoiselle  Marguerite 
was  kneeling  beside  the  bed,  eagerly  watching  for  some 
sign  of  renewed  life  and  intelligence  on  the  count's 
face. 

A  little  ashamed  of  his  indiscretion,  the  doctor  re- 
treated seven  or  eight  steps  down  the  stairs,  and  then 
ascended  them  again,  coughing  slightly,  so  as  to  an- 
nounce his  approach.  This  time  he  was  heard,  for 


THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS  141 

Mademoiselle  Marguerite  came  to  the  door  to  meet 
him.  "Well?"  he  inquired. 

"  Alas ! " 

He  advanced  toward  the  bed,  but  before  he  had  time 
to  examine  his  patient  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  hand- 
ed him  a  scrap  of  paper.  "  The  physician  who  usually 
attends  M.  de  Chalusse  has  been  here  in  your  absence, 
monsieur,"  said  she-  "  This  is  his  prescription,  and 
we  have  already  administered  a  few  drops  of  the 
potion." 

M.  Jodon,  who  was  expecting  this  blow,  bowed 
coldly. 

"  I  must  add,"  continued  Mademoiselle  Marguerite, 
"  that  the  doctor  approved  of  all  that  had  been  done ; 
and  I  beg  you  will  unite  your  skill  with  his  in  treating 
the  case." 

Unfortunately  all  the  medical  skill  of  the  faculty 
would  have  availed  nothing  here.  After  another  exam- 
ination, Dr.  Jodon  declared  that  it  would  be  necessary 
to  wait  for  the  action  of  nature,  but  that  he  must  be 
dition.  "  And  I  will  tell  my  servant  to  wake  me  at 
informed  of  the  slightest  change  in  the  sick  man's  con- 
once  if  I  am  sent  for,"  he  added. 

He  was  already  leaving  the  room,  when  Madame 
Leon  barred  his  passage.  "  Isn't  it  true,  doctor,  that 
one  attentive  person  would  suffice  to  watch  over  the 
count  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Most  assuredly,"  he  answered. 

The  housekeeper  turned  toward  Mademoiselle  Man 
guerite.  "Ah,  you  see,  my  dear  young  lady,"  she 
said,  "  what  did  I  tell  you  ?  Listen  to  me ;  take  a  little 
rest.  Watching  is  not  suitable  work  for  one  of  your 

"  It  is  useless  to  insist,"  interrupted  the  young  girl, 


142  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

resolutely.  "  I  shall  remain  here.  I  shall  watch  over 
him  myself." 

The  housekeeper  made  no  reply ;  but  it  seemed  to  the 
doctor  that  the  two  women  exchanged  singular  glances. 
"  The  devil !  "  he  muttered,  as  he  took  his  departure ; 
"  one  might  think  that  they  distrusted  each  other !  " 

Perhaps  he  was  right;  but  at  all  events  he  had 
scarcely  left  the  house  before  Madame  Leon  again 
urged  her  dear  young  lady  to  take  a  few  hours'  rest. 
"  What  can  you  fear  ? "  she  insisted,  in  her  wheedling 
voice.  "  Sha'n't  I  be  here  ?  Do  you  suppose  your 
old  Leon  capable  of  losing  herself  in  sleep,  when  your 
future  depends  upon  a  word  from  that  poor  man  lying 
there?" 

"  Pray,  cease." 

"  Ah,  no !  my  dear  young  lady ;  my  love  for  you 
compels  me " 

"  Oh,  enough !  "  interrupted  Mademoiselle  Margue- 
rite ;  "  enough,  Leon  !  " 

Her  tone  was  so  determined  that  the  housekeeper 
was  compelled  to  yield;  but  not  without  a  deep  sigh, 
not  without  an  imploring  glance  to  Heaven,  as  if  call- 
ing upon  Providence  to  witness  the  purity  of  her  mo- 
tives and  the  usefulness  of  her  praiseworthy  efforts. 
"  At  least,  my  dear  lady,  wrap  yourself  up  warmly. 
Shall  I  go  and  bring  you  your  heavy  travelling  shawl  ?  " 

"  Thanks,  my  dear  Leon — Annette  will  bring  it." 

"Then,  pray,  send  for  it.  But  we  are  not  going  to 
watch  alone?  What  should  we  do  if  we  needed  any- 
thing?" 

"  I  will  call,"  replied  Marguerite. 

This  was  unnecessary,  for  Dr.  Jodon's  departure 
from  the  house  had  put  an  abrupt  termination  to  the 
servants'  conference;  and  they  were  now  assembled 


THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS  143 

on  the  landing,  anxious  and  breathless,  and  peering 
eagerly  into  the  sick-room. 

Mademoiselle  Marguerite  went  toward  them.  "  Ma- 
dame Leon  and  myself  will  remain  with  the  count/'  she 
said.  "  Annette  " — this  was  the  woman  whom  she  liked 
best  of  all  the  servants — "  Casimir  and  a  footman  will 
spend  the  night  in  the  little  side  salon.  The  others  may 
retire." 

Her  orders  were  obeyed.  Two  o'clock  sounded  from 
the  church-tower  near  by,  and  then  the  solemn  and 
terrible  silence  was  only  broken  by  the  hard  breathing 
of  the  unconscious  man  and  the  implacable  ticktack  of 
the  clock  on  the  mantel-shelf,  numbering  the  seconds 
which  were  left  for  him  to  live.  From  the  streets  out- 
side, not  a  sound  reached  this  princely  abode,  which 
stood  between  a  vast  courtyard  and  a  garden  as  large 
as  a  park.  Moreover,  the  straw  which  had  been  spread 
over  the  paving-stones  effectually  deadened  the  rumble 
of  the  few  vehicles  that  passed.  Enveloped  in  a  soft, 
warm  shawl,  Madame  Leon  had  again  taken  possession 
of  her  arm-chair,  and  while  she  pretended  to  be  reading 
a  prayer-book,  she  kept  a  close  watch  over  her  dear 
young  lady,  as  if  she  were  striving  to  discover  her  in- 
most thoughts.  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  did  not  sus- 
pect this  affectionate  espionage.  Besides,  what  would 
it  have  mattered  to  her?  She  had  rolled  a  low  arm- 
chair near  the  bedside,  seated  herself  in  it,  and  her  eyes 
were  fixed  upon  M.  de  Chalusse.  Two  or  three  times 
she  started  violently,  and  once  even  she  said  to  Madame 
Leon :  "  Come — come  and  see !  " 

It  seemed  to  her  that  there  was  a  faint  change  in  the 
patient's  face;  but  it  was  only  a  fancy — she  nad  been 
deceived  by  the  shadows  that  played  about  the  room, 
caused  by  the  capricious  flame  in  the  grate.  The  hours 


144  THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS 

were  creeping  on,  and  the  housekeeper,  wearying  at  last 
of  her  fruitless  watch,  dropped  asleep;  her  head  fell 
forward  on  to  her  breast,  her  prayer-book  slipped  from 
her  hands,  and  finally  she  began  to  snore.  But  Mad- 
emoiselle Marguerite  did  not  perceive  this,  absorbed  as 
she  was  in  thoughts  which,  by  reason  of  «their  very 
profundity,  had  ceased  to  be  sorrowful.  Perhaps  she 
felt  she  was  keeping  a  last  vigil  over  her  happiness,  and 
that  with  the  final  breath  of  this  dying  man  all  her 
girlhood's  dreams  and  all  her  dearest  hopes  would  take 
flight  for  evermore.  Undoubtedly  her  thoughts  flew  to 
the  man  to  whom  she  had  promised  her  life — to  Pascal, 
to  the  unfortunate  fellow  whose  honor  was  being  stolen 
from  him  at  that  very  moment,  in  a  fashionable  gam- 
ing-house. 

About  five  o'clock  the  air  became  so  close  that  she 
felt  a  s'udden  faintness,  and  opened  the  window  to  ob- 
tain a  breath  of  fresh  air.  The  noise  aroused  Madame 
Leon  from  her  slumbers.  She  rose,  yawned,  and  rather 
sullenly  declared  that  she  felt  very  queer,  and  would 
certainly  fall  ill  if  she  did  not  take  some  refreshment. 
It  became  necessary  to  summon  M.  Casimir,  who 
brought  her  a  glass  of  Madeira  and  some  biscuits. 
"  Now  I  feel  better,"  she  murmured,  after  her  repast. 
"  My  excessive  sensibility  will  be  the  death  o£  me." 
And  so  saying,  she  dropped  asleep  again. 

Mademoiselle  Marguerite  had  meanwhile  returned  to 
her  seat;  but  her  thoughts  gradually  became  confused, 
her  eyelids  grew  heavy,  and  although  she  struggled,  she 
at  last  fell  asleep  in  her  turn,  with  her  head  resting  on 
the  count's  bed.  It  was  daylight  when  a  strange  and 
terrible  shock  awoke  her.  It  seemed  to  her  as  if  an 
icy  hand,  some  dead  person's  hand,  was  gently  stroking 
her  head,  and  tenderly  caressing  her  hair.  She  at  once 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  145 

sprang  to  her  feet.  The  sick  man  had  regained  con- 
sciousness; his  eyes  were  open  and  his  right  arm  was 
moving.  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  darted  to  the  bell- 
rope  and  pulled  it  violently,  and  as  a  servant  appeared 
in  answer  to  the  summons,  she  cried :  "  Run  for  the 
physician  who  lives  near  here — quick! — and  tell  him 
that  the  count  is  conscious/' 

In  an  instant,  almost,  the  sick-room  was  full  of  ser- 
vants, but  the  girl  did  not  perceive  it.  She  had  ap- 
proached M.  de  Chalusse,  and  taking  his  hand,  she 
tenderly  asked :  "  You  hear  me,  do  you  not,  monsieur  ? 
Do  you  understand  me  ?  " 

His  lips  moved;  but  only  a  hollow,  rattling  sound, 
which  was  absolutely  unintelligible,  came  from  his 
throat.  Still,  he  understood  her;  as  it  was  easy  to  see 
by  his  gestures — despairing  and  painful  ones,  for  paraly- 
sis had  not  released  its  hold  on  its  victim,  and  it  was 
only  with  great  difficulty  that  he  could  slightly  move 
his  right  arm.  He  evidently  desired  something.  But 
what? 

They  mentioned  the  different  articles  in  the  room — 
everything  indeed  that  they  could  think  of.  But  in 
vain,  until  the  housekeeper  suddenly  exclaimed :  "  He 
wishes  to  write." 

That  was,  indeed,  what  he  desired.  With  the  hand 
that  was  comparatively  free,  with  the  hoarse  rattle  that 
was  his  only  voice,  M.  de  Chalusse  answered,  "  Yes, 
yes ! "  and  his  eyes  even  turned  to  Madame  Leon  with 
an  expression  of  joy  and  gratitude.  They  raised  him 
on  his  pillows,  and  brought  him  a  small  writing-desk, 
with  some  paper,  and  a  pen  that  had  been  dipped  in 
ink.  But  like  those  around  him,  he  had  himself  over- 
estimated his  strength;  if  he  could  move  his  hand,  he 
could  not  control  its  movements.  After  a  terrible  effort 


146  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

and  intense  suffering,  however,  he  succeeded  in  tracing 
a  few  words,  the  meaning  of  which  it  was  impossible 
to  understand.  It  was  only  with  the  greatest  difficulty 
that  these  words  could  be  deciphered — "  My  entire 
fortune — give — friends — against —  This  signified 

nothing. 

In  despair,  he  dropped  the  pen,  and  his  glance  and 
his  hand  turned  to  that  part  of  the  room  opposite  his 
bed.  "  Monsieur  means  his  escritoire,  perhaps  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,"  the  sick  man  hoarsely  answered. 

"  Perhaps  the  count  wishes  that  it  should  be  opened  ?" 

"  Yes,  yes !  "   was  the  reply  again. 

"  My  God  !  "  exclaimed  Mademoiselle  Marguerite, 
with  a  gesture  of  despair ;  "  what  have  I  done  ?  I  have 
broken  the  key.  I  feared  the  responsibility  which  would 
fall  upon  us  all." 

The  expression  of  the  count's  face  had  become  abso- 
lutely frightful.  It  indicated  utter  discouragement,  the 
most  bitter  suffering,  the  most  horrible  despair.  His 
soul  was  writhing  in  a  body  from  which  life  had  fled. 
Intelligence,  mind,  and  will  were  fast  bound  in  a  corpse 
which  they  could  not  electrify.  The  consciousness  of 
his  own  powerlessness  caused  him  a  paroxysm  of 
frantic  rage ;  his  hands  clinched,  the  veins  in  his  throat 
swelled,  his  eyes  almost  started  from  their  sockets,  and 
in  a  harsh,  shrill  voice  that  had  nothing  human  in  it, 
he  exclaimed :  "  Marguerite ! — despoiled ! — take  care ! 
— your  mother !  "  And  this  was  all — it  was  the  su- 
preme effort  that  broke  the  last  link  that  bound  the  soul 
to  earth. 

"  A  priest !  "  cried  Madame  Leon  !  "  A  priest !  In 
the  name  of  Heaven,  go  for  a  priest ! " 

"  Rather  for  a  notary,"  suggested  M.  Casimir.  "  You 
see  he  wishes  to  make  a  will." 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  14? 

But  at  that  moment  the  physician  entered,  pale  and 
breathless.  He  walked  straight  to  the  bedside,  glanced 
at  the  motionless  form,,  and  solemnly  exclaimed :  "The 
Count  de  Chalusse  is  dead ! " 

There  was  a  moment's  stupor — the  stupor  which  al- 
ways follows  death,  especially  when  death  comes  sud- 
denly and  unexpectedly.  A  feeling  of  mingled  wonder, 
selfishness,  and  fear  pervaded  the  group  of  servants. 
"  Yes,  it  is  over ! "  muttered  the  doctor ;  "  it  is  all 
over ! " 

And  as  he  was  familiar  with  these  painful  scenes, 
and  had  lost  none  of  his  self-possession,  he  furtively 
studied  Mademoiselle  Marguerite's  features  and  atti- 
tude. She  seemed  thunderstruck.  With  dry,  fixed  eyes 
and  contracted  features,  she  stood  rooted  to  her  place, 
gazing  at  the  lifeless  form  as  if  she  were  expecting 
some  miracle — as  if  she  still  hoped  to  hear  those  rigid 
lips  reveal  the  secret  which  he  had  tried  in  vain  to 
disclose,  and  which  he  had  carried  with  him  to  the 
grave. 

The  physician  was  the  only  person  who  observed  this. 
The  other  occupants  of  the  room  were  exchanging  looks 
of  distress.  Some  of  the  women  had  fallen  upon  their 
knees,  and  were  sobbing  and  praying  in  the  same 
breath.  But  Madame  Leon's  sobs  could  be  heard  above 
the  rest.  They  were  at  first  inarticulate  moans,  but 
suddenly  she  sprang  toward  Mademoiselle  Marguerite, 
and  clasping  her  in  her  arms,  she  cried :  "  What  a  mis- 
fortune !  My  dearest  child,  what  a  loss ! "  Utterly 
incapable  of  uttering  a  word,  the  poor  girl  tried  to  free 
herself  from  this  close  embrace,  but  the  housekeeper 
would  not  be  repulsed,  and  continued :  "  Weep,  my  dear 
young  lady,  weep !  Do  not  refuse  to  give  vent  to  your 


148  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

She  herself  displayed  so  little  self-control  that  the 
physician  reprimanded  her  with  considerable  severity, 
whereat  her  emotion  increased,  and  with  her  handker- 
chief pressed  to  her  eyes,  she  sobbed :  "  Yes,  doctor, 
yes ;  you  are  right ;  I  ought  to  moderate  my  grief.  But 
pray,  doctor,  remove  my  beloved  Marguerite  from  this 
scene,  which  is  too  terrible  for  her  young  and  tender 
heart.  Persuade  her  to  retire  to  her  own  room,  so 
that  she  may  ask  God  for  strength  to  bear  the  mis- 
fortune which  has  befallen  her." 

The  poor  girl  had  certainly  no  intention  of  leaving 
the  room,  but  before  she  could  say  so,  M.  Casimir 
stepped  forward.  "  I  think,"  he  dryly  observed,  "  that 
mademoiselle  had  better  remain  here." 

"Eh?"  said  Madame  Leon,  looking  up  suddenly. 
"  And  why,  if  you  please  ?  " 

"  Because — because " 

Anger  had  dried  the  housekeeper's  tears.  "  What  do 
you  mean  ?  "  she  asked.  "  Do  you  pretend  to  prevent 
mademoiselle  from  doing  as  she  chooses  in  her  own 
house  ?  " 

,1  M.  Casimir  gave  vent  to  a  contemptuous  whistle, 
which,  twenty-four  hours  earlier,  would  have  been  pun- 
ished with  a  heavy  blow  from  the  man  who  was  now 
lying  there — dead.  "  Her  own  house !  "  he  answered ; 
•"her  own  house!  Yesterday  I  shouldn't  have  denied 
it;  but  to-day  it's  quite  another  thing.  Is  she  a  rela- 
tive? No,  she  isn't.  What  are  you  talking  about, 
then?  We  are  all  equals  here." 

He  spoke  so  impudently  that  even  the  doctor  felt 
indignant.  "  Scoundrel !  "  said  he. 

But  the  valet  turned  toward  him  with  an  air  which 
proved  that  he  was  well  acquainted  with  the  doctor's 
servant,  and,  consequently,  with  all  the  secrets  of  the 


THE   COUNT'S    MILLIONS  149 

master's  life.  "  Call  your  own  valet  a  scoundrel,  if 
you  choose/'  he  retorted,  "but  not  me.  Your  duties 
here  are  over,  aren't  they  ?  So  leave  us  to  manage  our 
own  affairs.  Thank  heaven,  I  know  what  I'm  talking 
about.  Everybody  knows  that  caution  must  be  exer- 
cised in  a  dead  man's  house,  especially  when  that  house 
is  full  of  money,  and  when,  instead  of  relatives,  there 
are — persons  who — who  are  there  nobody  knows  how 
or  why.  In  case  any  valuables  were  missed,  who  would 
be  accused  of  taking  them?  Why,  the  poor  servants, 
of  course.  Ah,  they  have  broad  shoulders!  Their 
trunks  would  be  searched;  and  even  if  nothing  were 
found,  they  would  be  sent  to  prison  all  the  same.  In 
the  meantime  other  people  would  escape  with  the  booty. 
No,  Lisette !  No  one  will  stir  from  this  room  until  the 
arrival  of  the  justice " 

Madame  Leon  was  bursting  with  rage.  "  All  right !  " 
she  interrupted ;  "  I'm  going  to  send  for  the  count's 
particular  friend,  General " 

"  I  don't  care  a  fig  for  your  general." 

"  Wretch ! " 

It  was  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  who  put  an  end  to 
this  indecent  dispute.  Its  increasing  violence  had 
aroused  her  from  her  stupor.  Casimir's  impudence 
brought  a  flush  to  her  forehead,  and  stepping  forward 
with  haughty  resolution,  she  exclaimed :  "  You  forget 
that  one  never  raises  one's  voice  in  the  chamber  of 
death."  Her  words  were  so  true,  and  her  manner  so 
majestic,  that  M.  Casimir  was  silenced.  Then,  pointing" 
to  the  door,  she  coldly  added :  "  Go  for  the  justice  of 
the  peace,  and  don't  set  foot  here  again,  except  in  his 
company." 

He  bowed,  stammered  an  unintelligible  apology,  and 
left  the  room.  "  She  always  gets  the  best  of  me,"  he 


150  THE   COUNT'S   MILLIONS 

growled,  as  he  went  downstairs.  "  But  seals  shall  be 
put  on  everything." 

When  he  entered  the  porter's  lodge,  M.  Bourigeau 
was  just  getting  up,  having  slept  all  night,  while  his 
wife  watched.  "Quick,"  ordered  M.  Casimir;  "make 
haste  and  finish  dressing,  and  run  for  the  justice  of 
the  peace — we  must  have  him  here  at  once.  Everything 
must  be  done  regularly  and  in  order,  upstairs." 

The  concierge  was  in  despair.  "  Heavens !  "  he  ex- 
claimed ;  "  so  the  master's  dead  !  What  a  misfortune  !  " 

"  You  may  well  say  so ;  and  this  is  the  second  time 
such  a  thing  has  happened  to  me.  I  remember  now 
what  a  shrewd  fellow  named  Chupin  once  said  to  me. 
( If  I  were  a  servant,'  he  remarked,  '  before  entering  a 
man's  service,  I'd  make  him  insure  his  life  for  my 
benefit  in  one  of  those  new-fangled  companies,  so  that 
I  might  step  into  a  handsome  fortune  if  he  took  it 
into  his  head  to  die.'  But  make  haste,  Bourigeau." 

"  That's  a  famous  idea,  but  scarcely  practicable," 
growled  the  concierge. 

"  I  don't  know  whether  it  is  or  not.  But  at  all 
events  I'm  terribly  annoyed.  The  count  was  giving 
me  enormous  wages,  and  I  had  got  him  nicely  into  my 
ways.  Well,  after  all,  I  shall  only  have  to  begin  again !" 

M.  Bourigeau  had  not  yet  attained  to  the  heights 
of  such  serene  philosophy,  and  as  he  buttoned  his  over- 
coat, he  groaned :  "  Ah !  you're  not  situated  as  I  am, 
Casimir.  You've  only  yourself  to  look  out  for.  I 
have  my  furniture;  and  if  I  don't  succeed  in  finding  a 
position  where  I  can  have  two  rooms,  I  shall  be  obliged 
to  sell  part  of  it.  What  a  blessed  nuisance ! " 

As  soon  as  he  was  dressed  he  started  off  on  his  mis- 
sion; and  M.  Casimir,  who  dared  not  return  to  the 
house,  began  walking  slowly  to  and  fro  in  front  of 


THE   COUNT'S    MILLIONS  151 

the  lodge.  He  had  made  some  thirty  turns  or  so,  and 
was  beginning  to  feel  impatient,  when  he  saw  Victor 
Chupin  approaching.  "  You  are  always  on  hand  at  the 
right  moment,"  remarked  M.  Casimir.  "  It's  all  over !  " 

Chupin  turned  eagerly.  "  Then  our  bargain  holds  ?" 
he  exclaimed.  "  You  understand  what  I  mean — the 
funeral,  you  know." 

"  It  isn't  certain  that  I  shall  have  anything  to  do  with 
it;  but  call  again  in  three  hours  from  now." 

"  All  right,  I'll  be  here." 

"And  M.  Fortunat?"  asked  Casimir. 

"  He  received  what  he  called  a  '  violent  shock '  last 
evening,  but  he's  better  this  morning.  He  instructed 
me  to  tell  you  that  he  should  look  for  you  between 
twelve  and  one — you  know  where." 

"  I'll  endeavor  to  be  there,  although  it  may  be  diffi- 
cult for  me  to  get  away.  If  I  go,  however,  I'll  show 
him  the  letter  that  caused  the  count's  illness ;  for  the 
count  threw  it  away,  after  tearing  it  into  several  pieces, 
and  I  found  some  of  the  bits  which  escaped  his  notice 
as  well  as  mademoiselle's.  It's  a  strange  letter,  upon 
my  word ! " 

Chupin  gazed  at  the  valet  with  a  look  of  mingled 
wonder  and  admiration.  "  By  Jove !  "  he  exclaimed, 
"  how  fortunate  a  man  must  be  to  secure  a  valet  like 
you !  " 

His  companion  smiled  complacently,  but  all  of  a  sud- 
den he  remarked :  "  Make  haste  and  go.  I  see  Bouri- 
geau  in  the  distance,  bringing  the  justice  of  the  peace." 


152  THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS 


VII. 


THE  magistrate  who  was  now  approaching  the  Cha- 
lusse  mansion  in  the  concierge's  company,  exemplified 
in  a  remarkable  manner  all  the  ideas  that  are  awak- 
ened in  one's  mind  by  the  grand  yet  simple  title  of 
"Justice  of  the  Peace."  He  was  the  very  person  you 
would  like  to  think  of  as  the  family  magistrate;  as  the 
promoter  of  friendly  feeling ;  as  the  guardian  of  the 
rights  of  the  absent,  the  young,  and  the  weak;  as  the 
just  arbiter  in  unfortunate  differences  between  those 
who  are  closely  related;  a  sage  of  wide  experience  and 
boundless  benevolence;  a  judge  whose  paternal  justice 
dispenses  with  all  pomp  and  display,  and  who  is  allowed 
by  French  statutes  to  hold  his  court  by  his  own  fireside, 
providing  the  doors  stand  open.  He  was  considerably 
over  fifty,  tall,  and  very  thin,  with  bent  shoulders.  His 
clothes  were  rather  old-fashioned  in  cut,  but  by  no 
means  ridiculous.  The  expression  of  his  face  was  gen- 
tleness itself;  but  it  would  not  have  done  to  presume 
upon  this  gentleness,  for  his  glance  was  keen  and  pierc- 
ing— like  the  glance  of  all  who  are  expert  in  diving 
into  consciences,  and  discovering  the  secrets  hidden 
there.  Moreover,  like  all  men  who  are  accustomed  to 
deliberate  in  public,  his  features  were  expressionless. 
He  could  see  and  hear  everything,  suspect  and  under- 
stand everything,  without  letting  a  muscle  of  his  face 
move.  And  yet  the  habitues  of  his  audience-chamber, 
and  his  clerks,  pretended  that  they  could  always  detect 
the  nature  of  his  impressions.  A  ring  which  he  wore 
upon  one  of  his  fingers  served  as  a  barometer  for  those 
who  knew  him.  If  a  difficult  case,  or  one  that  em- 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  155 

barrassed  his  conscience,  presented  itself,  his  eyes  fixed 
themselves  obstinately  upon  this  ring.  If  he  were  satis- 
fied that  everything  was  right,  he  looked  up  again, 
and  began  playing  with  the  ring,  slipping  it  up  and 
down  between  the  first  and  second  joint  of  his  finger; 
but  if  he  were  displeased,  he  abruptly  turned  the  bezel 
inside. 

In  appearance,  he  was  sufficiently  imposing  to  intim- 
idate even  M.  Casimir.  The  proud  valet  bowed  low 
as  the  magistrate  approached,  and  with  his  heart  in 
his  mouth,  and  in  an  obsequious  voice  he  said :  "  It 
was  I  who  took  the  liberty  of  sending  for  you,  mon- 
sieur." 

"  Ah ! "  said  the  magistrate,  who  already  knew  as 
much  about  the  Hotel  de  Chalusse,  and  the  events  of 
the  past  twelve  hours,  as  M.  Casimir  himself;  for  on 
his  way  to  the  house,  he  had  turned  Bourigeau  inside 
out  like  a  glove,  by  means  of  a  dozen  gentle  questions. 

"  If  monsieur  wishes  I  will  explain,"  resumed  M. 
Casimir. 

"  Nothing  !     It  is  quite  unnecessary.     Usher  us  in." 

This  "us"  astonished  the  valet;  but  before  they 
reached  the  house  it  was  explained  to  him.  He  dis- 
covered a  man  of  flourishing  and  even  jovial  mien  who 
was  walking  along  in  the  magistrate's  shadow  carrying 
a  large  black  portfolio  under  his  arm.  This  was  evi- 
dently the  clerk.  He  seemed  to  be  as  pleased  with  his 
employment  as  he  was  with  himself;  and  as  he  fol- 
lowed M.  Casimir,  he  examined  the  adornments  of  the 
mansion,  the  mosaics  in  the  vestibule,  the  statuary  and 
the  frescoed  walls  with  an  appraiser's  eye-  Perhaps  he 
was  calculating  how  many  years'  salary  it  would  require 
to  pay  for  the  decorating  of  this  one  staircase. 

On  the  threshold  of  the  death  room  the  magistrate 


154  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

paused.  There  had  been  some  change  during  M. 
Casimir's  absence.  The  doctor  had  left.  The  bed  had 
been  rearranged,  and  several  candles  were  burning  on 
a  table  covered  with  a  white  cloth.  Madame  Leon  had 
gone  to  her  own  room,  accompanied  by  two  servants, 
to  fetch  a  vessel  of  holy  water  and  a  branch  of  withered 
palm.  She  was  now  engaged  in  repeating  the  prayers 
for  the  dead,  pausing  from  time  to  time  to  dip  the  palm 
branch  in  the  holy  water,  and  sprinkle  the  bed.  Both 
windows  had  been  opened  in  spite  of  the  cold.  On  the 
marble  hearth  stood  a  chafing-dish  full  of  embers  from 
which  rose  spiral  rings  of  smoke,  filling  the  room  with 
a  pungent  odor  as  a  servant  poured  some  vinegar  and 
sugar  on  to  the  coals. 

As  the  magistrate  appeared,  every  one  rose  up.  Then, 
after  bestowing  prolonged  scrutiny  upon  the  room  and 
its  occupants,  he  respectfully  removed  his  hat,  and 
walked  in.  "Why  are  so  many  people  here?"  he  in- 
quired. 

"  I  suggested  that  they  should  remain,"  replied  M. 
Casimir,  "  because " 

"  You  are — suspicious,"  interrupted  the  magistrate. 

His  clerk  had  already  drawn  a  pen  and  some  paper 
from  his  portfolio,  and  was  engaged  in  reading  the  de- 
cision, rendered  by  the  magistrate  at  the  request  of  one 
Eourigeau,  and  in  virtue  of  which,  seals  were  about  to 
Tbe  affixed  to  the  deceased  nobleman's  personal  effects. 
Since  the  magistrate  had  entered  the  room,  his  eyes  had 
not  once  wandered  from  Mademoiselle  Marguerite,  who 
was  standing  near  the  fireplace,  looking  pale  but  com- 
posed. At  last  he  approached  her,  and  in  a  tone  of 
deep  sympathy :  "  Are  you  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  ?  " 
he  asked. 

She  raised  her  clear  eyes,  rendered  more  beautiful 


THE1  COUNT'S   MILLIONS  ISS 

than  ever,  by  the  tears  that  trembled  on  her  lashes,  and 
in  a  faltering  voice,  replied :  "  Yes,  monsieur." 

"  Are  you  a  relative  ?  Are  you  connected  in  any  way 
with  the  Count  de  Chalusse?  Have  you  any  right  to 
his  property?" 

"  No,  monsieur/' 

"  Excuse  me,  mademoiselle,,  but  these  questions  are 
indispensable.  Who  intrusted  you  to  the  care  of  M. 
de  Chalusse,  and  by  what  right?  Was  it  your  father 
or  your  mother?" 

"  I  have  neither  father  nor  mother,  monsieur.  I  am 
alone  in  the  world — utterly  alone." 

The  magistrate  glanced  keenly  round  the  room.  "Ah ! 
I  understand,"  said  he,  at  last ;  "  advantage  has  been 
taken  of  your  isolation  to  treat  you  with  disrespect,  to 
insult  you,  perhaps." 

Every  head  drooped,  and  M.  Casimir  bitterly  re- 
gretted that  he  had  not  remained  below  in  the  court- 
yard. Mademoiselle  Marguerite  looked  at  the  magis- 
trate in  astonishment,  for  she  was  amazed  by  his  pene- 
tration. She  was  ignorant  of  his  conversation  with 
Bourigeau  on  the  road,  and  did  not  know  that  through 
the  concierge's  ridiculous  statements  and  accusations, 
the  magistrate  had  succeeded  in  discovering  at  least  a 
portion  of  the  truth. 

"  I  shall  have  the  honor  of  asking  for  a  few  mo- 
ments' conversation  with  you-'presently,  mademoiselle," 
he  said.  "  But  first,  one  question.  I  am  told  that  the 
Count  de  Chalusse  entertained  a  very  lively  affection 
for  you.  Are  you  sure  that  he  has  not  taken  care  to 
provide  for  your  future?  Are  you  sure  that  he  has 
not  left  a  will?" 

The  girl  shook  her  head.  "  He  made  one  in  my 
favor  some  time  ago,"  she  replied.  "  I  saw  it ;  he 


156  THE    COUNT'S   MILLIONS 

gave  it  to  me  to  read;  but  it  was  destroyed  a  fortnight 
after  my  arrival  here,  and  in  compliance  with  my  re- 
quest." 

Madame  Leon  had  hitherto  been  dumb  with  fear,  but, 
conquering  her  weakness,  she  now  decided  to  draw  near 
and  take  part  in  the  conversation.  "  How  can  you  say 
that,  my  dear  young  lady?"  she  exclaimed.  "You 
know  that  the  count — God  rest  his  soul ! — was  an  ex- 
tremely cautious  man.  I  am  certain  that  there  is  a  will 
somewhere." 

The  magistrate's  eyes  were  fixed  on  his  ring.  "It 
would  be  well  to  look,  perhaps,  before  affixing  the  seals. 

You  have  a  right  to  require  this ;  so,  if  you  wish " 

s  But  she  made  no  reply. 

"  Oh,  yes ! "  insisted  Madame  Leon ;  "pray  look, 
monsieur." 

"But  where  should  we  be  likely  to  find  a  will?" 

"  Certainly  in  this  room — in  this  escritoire,  or  in  one 
of  the  deceased  count's  cabinets." 

The  magistrate  had  learnt  the  story  of  the  key  from 
Bourigeau,  but  all  the  same  he  asked:  "Where  is  the 
key  to  this  escritoire  ?  " 

"  Alas !  monsieur,"  replied  Mademoiselle  Marguerite, 
"  I  broke  it  last  night  when  M.  de  Chalusse  was  brought 
home  unconscious.  I  hoped  to  avert  what  has,  never- 
theless, happened.  Besides,  I  knew  that  his  escritoire 
contained  something  over  two  millions  in  gold  and 
bank-notes." 

Two  millions — there!  The  occupants  of  the  room 
stood  aghast.  Even  the  clerk  was  so  startled  that  he 
let  a  blot  fall  upon  his  paper.  Two  millions!  The 
magistrate  was  evidently  reflecting.  "  Hum !  "  he  mur- 
mured, meditatively.  Then,  as  if  deciding  on  his  course, 
he  exclaimed : 


THE   COUNT'S   MILLIONS  157 

"  Let  a  locksmith  be  sent  for." 

A  servant  went  in  search  of  one;  and  while  they 
were  waiting  for  his  return,  the  magistrate  sat  down 
beside  his  clerk  and  talked  to  him  in  a  low  voice.  At 
last  the  locksmith  appeared,  with  his  bag  of  tools  hang- 
ing over  his  shoulder,  and  set  to  work  at  once.  He 
found  his  task  a  difficult  one.  His  pick-locks  would 
not  catch,  and  he  was  talking  of  filing  the  bolt,  when, 
by  chance,  he  found  the  joint,  and  the  door  flew  open. 
But  the  escritoire  was  empty.  There  were  only  a  few 
papers,  and  a  bottle  about  three-quarters  full  of  a  crim- 
son liquid  on  the  shelf.  Had  M.  de  Chalusse  rose  and 
shook  off  his  winding  sheet,  the  consternation  would 
not  have  been  greater.  The  same  instinctive  fear 
thrilled  the  hearts  of  everybody  present.  An  enormous 
fortune  had  disappeared.  The  same  suspicions  would 
rest  upon  them  all.  And  each  servant  already  saw 
himself  arrested,  imprisoned,  and  dragged  before  a 
law  court. 

However,  anger  speedily  followed  bewilderment,  and 
a  furious  clamor  arose.  "  A  robbery  has  been 
committed  !  "  cried  the  servants,  in  concert.  "  Mad- 
emoiselle had  the  key.  It  is  wrong  to  suspect  the  in- 
nocent !  " 

Revolting  as  this  exhibition  was,  it  did  not  modify 
the  magistrate's  calmness.  He  had  witnessed  too  many 
such  scenes  in  the  course  of  his  career,  and,  at  least, 
a  score  of  times  he  had  been  compelled  to  interpose 
between  children  who  had  come  to  blows  over  their 
inheritance  before  their  father's  body  was  even  cold. 
"  Silence !  "  he  commanded  sternly.  And  as  the  tumult 
did  not  cease,  as  the  servants  continued  to  cry,  "The 
thief  must  be  found.  We  shall  have  no  difficulty  in 
discovering  the  culprit,"  the  magistrate  exclaimed,  still 


158  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

more  imperiously :  "  Another  word,  and  you  all  leave 
the  room." 

They  were  silenced ;  but  there  was  a  mute  eloquence 
about  their  looks  and  gestures  which  it  was  impossible 
to  misunderstand.  Every  eye  was  fixed  upon  Mad- 
emoiselle Marguerite  with  an  almost  ferocious  expres- 
sion. She  knew  it  only  too  well;  but,  sublime  in  her 
energy,  she  stood,  with  her  head  proudly  erect,  facing 
the  storm,  and  disdaining  to  answer  these  vile  impu- 
tations. However  she  had  a  protector  near  by — the 
magistrate  in  person.  "  If  this  treasure  has  been  di- 
verted from  the  inheritance,"  said  he,  "the  thief  will 
be  discovered  and  punished.  But  I  wish  to  have  one 
point  explained — who  said  that  Mademoiselle  Mar- 
guerite had  the  key  of  the  escritoire  ?  " 

"  I  did,"  replied  a  footman.  "  I  was  in  the  dining- 
room  yesterday  morning  when  the  count  gave  it  to  her." 

"  For  what  purpose  did  he  give  it  to  her  ?  " 

"  That  she  might  obtain  this  vial — I  recognized  it  at 
once.  She  brought  it  down  to  him/' 

"Did  she  return  the  key?" 

"Yes;  she  gave  it  to  him  when  she  handed  him  the 
vial,  and  I  saw  him  put  it  in  his  pocket." 

The  magistrate  pointed  to  the  bottle  which  was  stand- 
ing on  the  shelf.  "  Then  the  count  himself  must  have 
put  the  vial  back  in  its  place,"  said  he.  "  Further 
comment  is  unnecessary;  for,  if  the  money  had  then 
"been  missing,  he  could  not  have  failed  to  discover  the 
fact."  No  one  had  any  reply  to  make  to  this  quiet 
defence,  which  was,  at  the  same  time,  a  complete  vin- 
dication. "  And,  besides,"  continued  the  magistrate, 
"  who  told  you  that  this  immense  sum  would  be  found 
here  ?  Did  you  know  it  ?  Which  one  of  you  knew  it  ?  " 
And  as  nobody  still  ventured  any  remark,  he  added 


THE    COUNTS   MILLIONS  159 

in  an  even  more  severe  tone,  and  without  seeming  to 
notice  Mademoiselle  Marguerite's  look  of  gratitude, 
"  It  is  by  no  means  a  -proof  of  honesty  to  be  so  ex- 
tremely suspicious.  Would  it  not  have  been  easier  to 
suppose  that  the  deceased  had  placed  the  money  some- 
where else,  and  that  it  will  yet  be  found  ?  " 

The  clerk  had  been  even  less  disturbed  than  the  mag- 
istrate. He  also  was  blase,  having  witnessed  too  many 
of  those  frightful  and  shameless  dramas  which  are 
enacted  at  a  dead  man's  bedside,  to  be  surprised  at 
anything.  If  he  had  deigned  to  glance  at  the  escri- 
toire, it  was  only  because  he  was  curious  to  see  how 
small  a  space  would  suffice  to  contain  two  millions ;  and 
then  he  had  begun,  to  calculate  how  many  years  he 
would  be  obliged  to  remain  a  clerk  before  he  could 
succeed  in  amassing  such  a  fabulous  sum.  However, 
hearing  his  superior  express  the  intention  of  continuing 
the  search  for  the  will,  and  the  missing  treasure,  he 
abruptly  abandoned  his  calculation,  and  exclaimed, 
"Then,  I  suppose,  I  can  commence  my  report,  mon- 
sieur ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  magistrate,  "  write  as  follows : " 
And  in  a  monotonous  voice  he  began  to  dictate  the 
prescribed  formula,  an  unnecessary  proceeding,  for  the 
clerk  was  quite  as  familiar  with  it  as  the  magistrate 
himself:— "On  the  16th  of  October,  186—,  at  nine 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  in  compliance  with  the  request 
of  the  servants  of  the  deceased  Louis-Henri-Raymond 
de  Durtal,  Count  de  Chalusse,  and  in  the  interest  of  his 
presumptive  heirs,  and  all  others  connected  with  him, 
and  in  accordance  with  the  requirements  of  clauses  819 
(Code  Napoleon)  and  909  (Code  of  Procedure),  we, 
justice  of  the  peace,  accompanied  by  our  clerk,  visited 
the  residence  of  the  deceased  aforesaid,  in  the  Rue 


160  THE    COUNT'S   MILLIONS 

de  Courcelles,  where,  having  entered  a  bedroom  open- 
ing on  to  the  courtyard,  and  lighted  by  two  windows 
looking  toward  the  south,  we  found  the  body  of  the 
deceased  aforesaid,  lying  on  his  bed,  and  covered  with 

a  sheet.  In  this  room  were "  He  paused  in  his 

dictation,  and  addressing  the  clerk,  "  Take  down  the 
names  of  all  present/'  said  he.  "That  will  require 
some  little  time,  and,  meanwhile,  I  will  continue  my 
search." 

They  had,  in  fact,  only  examined  the  shelf  of  the 
escritoire,  and  the  drawers  were  still  to  be  inspected. 
In  the  first  which  he  opened,  the  magistrate  found  am- 
ple proofs  of  the  accuracy  of  the  information  which 
had  been  furnished  him  by  Mademoiselle  Marguerite. 
The  drawer  contained  a  memorandum  which  estab- 
lished the  fact  that  the  Credit  Foncier  had  lent  M.  de 
Chalusse  the  sum  of  eight  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
francs,  which  had  been  remitted  to  him  on  the  Saturday 
preceding  his  death.  Beside  this  document  lay  a  second 
memorandum,  signed  by  a  stockbroker  named  Pell, 
setting  forth  that  the  latter  had  sold  for  the  count  secu- 
rities of  various  descriptions  to  the  amount  of  fourteen 
hundred  and  twenty-three  thousand  francs,  which  sum 
had  been  paid  to  the  count  on  the  preceding  Tuesday, 
partly  in  bank-notes  and  partly  in  gold.  It  was  thus 
evident  that  M.  de  Chalusse  had  received  a  grand  total 
of  two  million  two  hundred  and  seventy-three  thousand 
francs  within  the  past  six  days. 

In  the  drawer  which  was  next  opened,  the  magis- 
trate only  found  a  number  of  deeds,  bonds,  leases,  and 
mortgages ;  but  they  proved  that  public  rumor,  far  from 
exaggerating  the  figures  of  the  count's  fortune,  had 
diminished  it,  and  this  made  it  difficult  to  explain  why 
he  had  contracted  a  loan.  The  third  and  last  drawer 


THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS  161 

contained  twenty-eight  thousand  francs,  in  packages  of 
twenty-franc  pieces-  Finally,  in  a  small  casket,  the 
magistrate  found  a  packet  of  letters,  yellow  with  age 
and  bound  together  with  a  broad  piece  of  blue  velvet; 
as  well  as  three  or  four  withered  bouquets,  and  a 
woman's  glove,  which  had  been  worn  by  a  hand  of  mar- 
vellous smallness.  These  were  evidently  the  relics  of 
some  great  passion  of  many  years  before;  and  the 
magistrate  looked  at  them  for  a  moment  with  a  sigh. 

His  own  interest  prevented  him  from  noticing  Mad- 
emoiselle Marguerite's  agitation.  She  had  almost 
fainted  on  perceiving  these  souvenirs  of  the  count's  past 
life  so  suddenly  exhumed.  However,  the  examination 
of  the  escritoire  being  over,  and  the  clerk  having  com- 
pleted his  task  of  recording  the  names  of  all  the  ser- 
vants, the  magistrate  said,  in  a  loud  voice,  "  I  shall  now 
proceed  to  affix  the  seals ;  but,  before  doing  so,  I  shall 
take  a  portion  of  the  money  found  in  this  desk,  and  set 
it  apart  for  the  expenses  of  the  household,  in  accord- 
ance with  the  law.  Who  will  take  charge  of  this 
money  ?  " 

"  Oh,  not  I !  "  exclaimed  Madame  Leon. 

"  I  will  take  charge  of  it,"  said  M.  Casimir. 

"Then  here  are  eight  thousand  francs,  for  which 
you  will  be  held  accountable." 

M.  Casimir  being  a  prudent  man,  counted  the  money 
himself,  and  after  doing  so,  "Who  will  attend  to  the 
count's  obsequies  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"You,  and  without  loss  of  time." 

Proud  of  his  new  importance,  the  valet  hastily  left 
the  room,  his  self-complacency  increased  by  the 
thought  that  he  was  to  breakfast  with  M.  Isidore  For- 
tunat,  and  would  afterward  share  a  fat  commission  with 
Victor  Chupin. 


162  THE   COUNTS   MILLIONS 

However,  the  magistrate  had  already  resumed  his 
dictation :  "  And  at  this  moment  we  have  affixed  bands 
of  white  tape,  sealed  at  either  end  with  red  wax,  bear- 
Ing  the  impress  of  our  seal  as  justice  of  the  peace,  to 
wit:  In  the  aforesaid  chamber  of  the  deceased:  First, 
A  band  of  tape,  covering  the  keyhole  of  the  lock  of 
the  escritoire,  which  had  been  previously  opened  by  a 
locksmith  summoned  by  us,  and  closed  again  by  the  said 

locksmith "  And  so  the  magistrate  and  his  clerk 

went  from  one  piece  of  furniture  to  another,  duly  speci- 
fying in  the  report  each  instance  in  which  the  seals 
were  affixed. 

From  the  count's  bedroom  they  passed  into  his  study, 
followed  by  Mademoiselle  Marguerite,  Madame  Leon, 
and  the  servants.  By  noon  every  article  of  furniture 
in  which  M.  de  Chalusse  would  have  been  likely  to 
deposit  his  valuables  or  a  will,  had  been  searched,  and 
nothing,  absolutely  nothing,  had  been  found.  The  mag- 
istrate had  pursued  his  investigation  with  the  feverish 
-energy  which  the  most  self-possessed  of  men  are  apt 
to  display  under  such  circumstances,  especially  when 
influenced  by  the  conviction  that  the  object  they  are 
seeking  is  somewhere  within  their  reach,  perhaps  under 
their  very  hand.  Indeed,  he  was  persuaded — he  was 
sure — he  would,  in  fact,  have  sworn  that  the  Count  de 
Chalusse  had  taken  all  the  precautions  natural  in  child- 
less men,  who  have  no  near  relatives  to  inherit  their 
fortune,  or  who  have  placed  their  interest  and  affec- 
tions beyond  their  family  circle.  And  when  he  was 
obliged  to  abandon  his  search,  his  gesture  indicated 
anger  rather  than  discouragement;  for  apparent  evi- 
dence had  not  shaken  his  conviction  in  the  least.  So  he 
stood  motionless,  with  his  eyes  riveted  on  his  ring,  as 
if  waiting  some  miraculous  inspiration  from  it.  "  For 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  163 

the  count's  only  fault,  I  am  sure,  was  in  being  too 
cautious/'  he  muttered.  "  This  is  frequently  the  case, 
and  it  would  be  quite  in  keeping  with  the  character  of 
this  man,  judging  from  what  I  know  of  him." 

Madame  Leon  lifted  her  hands  to  heaven.  "Ah, 
yes !  such  was,  indeed,  his  nature,"  she  remarked,  ap- 
provingly. "  Never,  no  never,  have  I  seen  such  a  sus- 
picious and  distrustful  person  as  he  was.  Not  in  refer- 
ence to  money — no,  indeed — for  he  left  that  lying  about 
everywhere;  but  about  his  papers.  He  locked  them  up 
with  the  greatest  care,  as  if  he  feared  that  some  terrible 
secret  might  evaporate  from  them.  It  was  a  mania 
with  him.  If  he  had  a  letter  to  write,  he  barricaded  his 
door,  as  if  he  were  about  to  commit  some  horrible 

crime.  More  than  once  have  I  seen  him "  The 

words  died  away  on  her  lips,  and  she  remained  motion- 
less and  abashed,  like  a  person  who  has  just  escaped 
some  great  peril.  One  word  more,  and  involuntarily, 
without  even  knowing  it,  she  would  have  confessed  her 
besetting  sin,  which  was  listening  at,  and  peering 
through,  the  keyholes  of  the  doors  that  were  closed 
against  her.  Still,  she  deluded  herself  with  the  belief 
that  this  slight  indiscretion  of  her  overready  tongue 
had  escaped  the  magistrate's  notice. 

He  certainly  did  not  seem  to  be  conscious  of  it,  for 
he  was  giving  his  attention  entirely  to  Mademoiselle 
Marguerite,  who  seemed  to  have  regained  the  cold  re- 
serve and  melancholy  resignation  habitual  to  her.  "  You 
see,  mademoiselle,"  he  remarked,  "  that  I  have  done  all 
that  is  in  my  power  to  do.  We  must  now  leave  the 
search  to  chance,  and  to  the  person  who  takes  the  in- 
ventory. Who  knows  what  surprise  may  be  in  store 
for  us  in  this  immense  house,  of  which  we  have  only 
explored  three  rooms  ?  " 


164  THE   COUNT'S   MILLIONS 

She  shook  her  head  gently  and  replied :  "  I  can  never 
be  sufficiently  grateful  for  your  kindness,  monsieur,  and 
for  the  great  service  you  rendered  me  in  crushing  that 
infamous  accusation.  As  regards  the  rest,  I  have 
never  expected  anything — I  do  not  expect  anything 
now." 

She  believed  what  she  said,  and  her  tone  of  voice 
proved  this  so  unmistakably  that  the  magistrate  was 
surprised  and  somewhat  disturbed.  "  Come,  come,  my 
young  lady,"  he  said,  with  almost  paternal  kindness  of 
manner,  "  you  ought  not  to  despond.  Still,  you  must 
have  certain  reasons  for  speaking  as  you  do;  and  as  I 
am  free  for  an  hour,  we  are  going  to  have  a  plain  talk, 
as  if  we  were  father  and  daughter." 

On  hearing  these  words,  the  clerk  rose  with  a  cloud 
on  his  jovial  face.  He  impatiently  jingled  his  bunch 
of  keys;  for  as  the  seals  are  successively  affixed,  each 
key  is  confided  to  the  clerk,  to  remain  in  his  hands  until 
the  seals  are  removed. 

"  I  understand,"  said  the  magistrate.  "  Your  stom- 
ach, which  is  more  exacting  in  its  demands  than  mine, 
is  not  satisfied  with  a  cup  of  chocolate  till  dinner-time. 
So,  go  and  get  your  lunch;  on  your  return,  you  will 
find  me  here.  You  may  now  conclude  the  report,  and 
request  these  parties  to  sign  it." 

Urged  on  by  hunger,  the  clerk  hastily  mumbled  over 
the  remainder  of  the  formula,  called  all  the  names  that 
he  had  inserted  in  the  report,  and  each  of  the  servants 
advanced  in  turn,  signed  his  or  her  name,  or  made  a 
cross,  and  then  retired.  Madame  Leon  read  in  the 
judge's  face  that  she  also  was  expected  to  withdraw; 
and  she  was  reluctantly  leaving  the  room,  when  Mad- 
emoiselle Marguerite  detained  her  to  ask:  "Are  you 
quite  sure  that  nothing  has  come  for  me  to-day  ?  " 


THE   COUNT'S    MILLIONS  165 

'  Nothing,  mademoiselle ;  I  went  in  person  to  inquire 
of  the  concierge." 

"  Did  you  post  my  letter  last  night  ?  " 

"  Oh !  my  dear  young  lady,  can  you  doubt  it  ?  " 

The  young  girl  stifled  a  sigh,  and  then,  with  a  ges- 
ture of  dismissal,  she  remarked,  "  M.  de  Fondege  must 
be  sent  for/' 

"The  General?" 

"  Yes." 

"  I  will  send  for  him  at  once,"  replied  the  house- 
keeper; and  thereupon  she  left  the  room,  closing  the 
door  behind  her  with  a  vicious  slam. 

VIII. 

THE  justice  of  the  peace  and  Mademoiselle  Marguerite 
were  at  last  alone  in  M.  de  Chalusse's  study.  This 
room,  which  the  count  had  preferred  above  all  others, 
was  a  spacious,  magnificent,  but  rather  gloomy  apart- 
ment, with  lofty  walls  and  dark,  richly  carved  furniture. 
Its  present  aspect  was  more  than  ever  solemn  and  lugu- 
brious, for  it  gave  one  a  chill  to  see  the  bands  of  white 
tape  affixed  to  the  locks  of  the  cabinets  and  bookcases. 
When  the  magistrate  had  installed  himself  in  the 
count's  arm-chair,  and  the  girl  had  taken  a  seat  near 
him,  they  remained  looking  at  each  other  in  silence  for 
a  few  moments.  The  magistrate  was  asking  himself 
how  he  should  begin.  Having  fathomed  Mademoiselle 
Marguerite's  extreme  sensitiveness  and  reserve,  he  said 
to  himself  that  if  he  offended  or  alarmed  her,  she  would 
refuse  him  her  confidence,  in  which  case  he  would  be 
powerless  to  serve  her  as  he  wished  to  do.  He  had, 
in  fact,  an  almost  passionate  desire  to  be  of  service 
to  her,  feeling  himself  drawn  toward  her  by  an  inex- 


166  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

plicable  feeling  of  sympathy,  in  which  esteem,  respect, 
and  admiration  alike  were  blended,  though  he  had  only 
known  her  for  a  few  hours.  Still,  he  must  make  a 
beginning.  "  Mademoiselle,"  he  said,  at  last,  "  I  ab- 
stained from  questioning  you  before  the  servants — and 
if  I  take  the  liberty  of  doing  so  now,  it  is  not,  believe 
me,  out  of  any  idle  curiosity;  moreover,  you  are  not 
compelled  to  answer  me.  But  you  are  young — and  I 
am  an  old  man;  and  it  is  my  duty — even  if  my  heart 
did  not  urge  me  to  do  so — to  offer  you  the  aid  of  my 
experience " 

"  Speak,  monsieur,"  interrupted  Marguerite.  "  I  will 
answer  your  questions  frankly,  or  else  not  answer  them 
at  all." 

"  To  resume,  then,"  said  he,  "  I  am  told  that  M.  de 
Chalusse  has  no  relatives,  near  or  remote.  Is  this  the 
truth?" 

"  So  far  as  I  know — yes,  monsieur.  Still,  I  have 
heard  it  said  that  a  sister  of  his,  Mademoiselle  Hermine 
de  Chalusse,  abandoned  her  home  twenty-five  or  thirty 
years  ago,  when  she  was  about  my  age,  and  that  she 
has  never  received  her  share  of  the  enormous  fortune 
left  by  her  parents." 

"  And  has  this  sister  never  given  any  sign  of  life  ?  " 

"  Never  !  Still,  monsieur,  I  have  promised  you  to  be 
perfectly  frank.  That  letter  which  the  Count  de  Cha- 
lusse received  yesterday,  that  letter  which  I  regard  as 
the  cause  of  his  death — well,  I  have  a  presentiment  that 
it  came  from  his  sister.  It  could  only  have  been  written 
by  her  or — by  that  other  person  whose  letters — and 
souvenirs — you  found  in  the  escritoire." 

"And — this  other  person — who  can  she  be?"  As 
the  young  girl  made  no  reply,  the  magistrate  did  not  in- 
sist, but  continued :  "  And  you,  my  child,  who  are  you  ?" 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  167 

She  made  a  gesture  of  sorrowful  resignation,  and 
then,  in  a  voice  faltering  with  emotion.,  she  answered : 
"  I  do  not  know,  monsieur.  Perhaps  I  am  the  count's 
daughter.  I  should  be  telling  an  untruth  if  I  said  that 
was  not  my  belief.  Yes,  I  believe  it,  but  I  have  never 
been  certain  of  it.  Sometimes  I  have  believed,  some- 
times I  have  doubted  it.  On  certain  days  I  have  said 
to  myself,  e  Yes,  it  must  be  so ! '  and  I  have  longed  to 
throw  my  arms  around  his  neck.  But  at  other  times  I 
have  exclaimed :  '  No,  it  isn't  possible ! '  and  I  have 
almost  hated  him.  Besides,  he  never  said  a  word  on 
the  subject — never  a  decisive  word,  at  least.  When  I 
saw  him  for  the  first  time,  six  years  ago,  I  judged  by 
the  manner  in  which  he  forbade  me  to  call  him 
'  father,'  that  he  would  never  answer  any  question  I 
might  ask  on  the  subject." 

If  there  was  a  man  in  the  world  inaccessible  to  idle 
curiosity,  it  was  certainly  this  magistrate,  whose  pro- 
fession condemned  him  to  listen  every  day  to  family 
grievances,  neighborly  quarrels,  complaints,  accusations, 
and  slander.  And  yet  as  he  listened  to  Mademoiselle 
Marguerite,  he  experienced  that  strange  disquietude 
which  seizes  hold  of  a  person  when  a  puzzling  problem 
is  presented.  "  Allow  me  to  believe  that  many  decisive 
proofs  may  have  escaped  your  notice  on  account  of  your 
inexperience,"  he  said. 

But  interrupting  him  with  a  gesture,  she  sadly  re- 
marked :  "  You  are  mistaken ;  I  am  not  inexperienced." 

He  could  not  help  smiling  at  what  he  considered  her 
self-conceit.  "  Poor  child !  "  said  he ;  "  how  old  are 
you  ?  Eighteen  ?  " 

She  shook  her  head.  "  Yes,  by  my  certificate  of  birth 
I  am  only  eighteen;  but  by  the  sufferings  I  have  en- 
dured I  am,  perhaps,  older  than  you  are,  monsieur, 


168  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

despite  your  white  hair.  Those  who  have  lived  such  a 
life  as  I  have,  are  never  young;  they  are  old  in  suffer- 
ing, even  in  their  childhood.  And  if  by^xperience  you 
mean  lack  of  confidence,,  a  knowledge  of  good  and 
evil,  distrust  of  everything  and  everybody,  mine,  young 
girl  though  I  be,  will  no  doubt  equal  yours/'  She 
paused,  hesitated  for  a  moment,  and  then  continued: 
"  But  why  should  I  wait  for  you  to  question  me  ?  It 
is  neither  sincere  nor  dignified  on  my  part  to  do  so. 
The  person  who  claims  counsel  owes  absolute  frank- 
ness to  his  adviser.  I  will  speak  to  you  as  if  I  wer<* 
communing  with  my  own  soul.  I  will  tell  you  what  no 
person  has  ever  known — no  one,  not  even  Pascal.  And 
believe  me,  my  past  life  was  full  of  bitter  misery,  al- 
though you  find  me  here  in  this  splendid  house.  But 
I  have  nothing  to  conceal ;  and  if  I  have  cause  to  blush, 
it  is  for  others,  not  for  myself." 

Perhaps  she  was  impelled  by  an  irresistible  desire  to 
relieve  her  overburdened  heart,  after  long  years  of  self- 
restraint;  perhaps  she  no  longer  felt  sure  of  herself, 
and  desired  some  other  advice  than  the  dictates  of  her 
conscience,  in  presence  of  the  calamity  which  had  be- 
fallen her.  At  all  events,  too  much  engrossed  in  her 
own  thoughts  to  heed  the  magistrate's  surprise,  or  hear 
the  words  he  faltered,  she  rose  from  her  seat,  and,  with 
her  hands  pressed  tightly  on  her  throbbing  brow,  she 
began  to  tell  the  story  of  her  life. 

"  My  first  recollections,"  she  said,  "  are  of  a  narrow, 
cheerless  courtyard,  surrounded  by  grim  and  massive 
walls,  so  high  that  I  could  scarcely  see  the  top  of 
them.  At  noontime  in  summer  the  sun  visited  one  little 
corner,  where  there  was  a  stone  bench;  but  in  winter 
it  never  showed  itself  at  all.  There  were  five  or  six 
small,  scrubby  trees,  with  moss-grown  trunks  and  feeble 


THE   COUNT'S    MILLIONS  169 

branches,  which  put  forth  a  few  yellow  leaves  at 
springtime.  We  were  some  thirty  children  who  as- 
sembled in  this  courtyard — children  from  five  to  eight 
years  old,  all  clad  alike  in  brown  dresses,  with  a  little 
blue  handkerchief  tied  about  our  shoulders.  We  all 
wore  blue  caps  on  week-days,  and  white  ones  on  Sun- 
days, with  woollen  stockings,  thick  shoes,  and  a  black 
ribbon,  with  a  large  metal  cross  dangling  from  our 
necks.  Among  us  moved  the  good  sisters,  silent  and 
sad,  with  their  hands  crossed  in  their  large  sleeves, 
their  faces  as  white  as  their  snowy  caps,  and  their 
long  strings  of  beads,  set  off  with  numerous  copper 
medals,  clanking  when  they  walked  like  prisoners' 
chains.  As  a  rule,  each  face  wore  the  same  expression 
of  resignation,  unvarying  gentleness,  and  inexhaustible 
patience.  But  there  were  some  who  wore  it  only  as 
one  wears  a  mask — some  whose  eyes  gleamed  at  times 
with  passion,  and  who  vented  their  cold,  bitter  anger 
upon  us  defenceless  children.  However,  there  was  one 
sister,  still  young  and  very  fair,  whose  manner  was  so 
gentle  and  so  sad  that  even  I,  with  my  mere  infantile 
intelligence,  felt  that  she  must  have  some  terrible  sor- 
row. During  play-time  she  often  took  me  on  her  knee 
and  embraced  me  with  convulsive  tenderness,  murmur- 
ing :  '  Dear  little  one !  darling  little  one ! '  Sometimes 
her  endearments  were  irksome  to  me,  but  I  never  al- 
lowed her  to  see  it,  for  fear  of  making  her  still  more 
sad ;  and  in  my  heart  I  was  content  and  proud  to  suffer 
for  and  with  her.  Poor  sister!  I  owe  her  the  only 
happy  hours  of  my  infancy.  She  was  called  Sister 
Calliste.  I  do  not  know  what  has  become  of  her,  but 
often,  when  my  heart  fails  me,  I  think  of  her,  and  even 
now  I  cannot  mention  her  name  without  tears." 

Mademoiselle  Marguerite  was  indeed  weeping — big 


170  THE   COUNTS    MILLIONS 

tears  which  she  made  no  attempt  to  conceal  were  cours- 
ing down  her  cheeks.  It  cost  her  a  great  effort  to  con- 
tinue :  "  You  have  already  understood,  monsieur,  what 
I  myself  did  not  know  for  several  years.  I  was  in  a 
foundling  asylum,  and  I  was  a  foundling  myself.  I 
cannot  say  that  we  lacked  anything;  and  I  should  be 
ungrateful  if  I  did  not  say  and  feel  that  these  good 
sisters  were  charity  personified.  But,  alas !  their  hearts 
had  only  a  certain  amount  of  tenderness  to  distribute 
between  thirty  poor  little  girls,  and  so  each  child's  por- 
tion was  small;  the  caresses  were  the  same  for  all,  and 
I  longed  to  be  loved  differently,  to  have  kind  words  and 
caresses  for  myself  alone.  We  slept  in  little  white  beds 
with  snowy  curtains,  in  a  clean,  well-ventilated  dormi- 
tory, in  the  centre  of  which  stood  a  statue  of  the  Vir- 
gin, who  seemed  to  smile  on  us  all  alike.  In  winter 
we  had  a  fire.  Our  clothes  were  warm  and  neat;  our 
food  was  excellent.  We  were  taught  to  read  and  write, 
to  sew  and  embroider.  There  was  a  recreation  hour 
between  all  the  exercises.  Those  who  were  studious 
and  good  were  rewarded;  and  twice  a  week  we  were 
taken  into  the  country  for  a  long  walk.  It  was  during 
one  of  these  excursions  that  I  learned  from  the  talk 
of  the  passers-by,  what  we  were,  and  what  we  were 
called.  Sometimes,,  in  the  afternoon,  we  were  visited 
by  elegantly-attired  ladies,  who  were  accompanied  by 
their  own  children,  radiant  with  health  and  happiness. 
The  good  sisters  told  us  that  these  were  '  pious  ladies,' 
or  '  charitable  ladies/  whom  we  must  love  and  respect, 
and  whom  we  must  never  forget  to  mention  in  our 
prayers.  They  always  brought  us  toys  and  cakes. 
Sometimes  the  establishment  was  visited  by  priests  and 
grave  old  gentlemen,  whose  sternness  of  manner 
alarmed  us.  They  peered  into  every  nook  and  corner, 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  171 

asked  questions  about  everything,  assured  themselves 
that  everything  was  in  its  place,  and  some  of  them 
even  tasted  our  soup.  They  were  always  satisfied ;  and 
the  lady  superior  led  them  through  the  building,  and 
bowed  to  them,  exclaiming :  c  We  love  them  so  much, 
the  poor  little  dears ! '  And  the  gentlemen  replied : 
'  Yes,  yes,  my  dear  sister,  they  are  very  fortunate.' 
And  the  gentlemen  were  right.  Poor  laborers'  chil- 
dren are  often  obliged  to  endure  privations  which  we 
knew  nothing  of;  they  are  often  obliged  to  make  their 
supper  off  a  piece  of  dry  bread — but,  then,  the  crust  is 
given  them  by  their  mother,  with  a  kiss." 

The  magistrate,  who  was  extremely  ill  at  ease,  had 
not  yet  succeeded  in  finding  a  syllable  to  offer  in  reply. 
Indeed,  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  had  not  given  him  an 
opportunity  to  speak,  so  rapidly  had  this  long-repressed 
flood  of  recollections  poured  from  her  lips.  When  she 
spoke  the  word  "mother,"  the  magistrate  fancied  she 
would  show  some  sign  of  emotion. 

But  he  was  mistaken.  On  the  contrary,  her  voice 
became  harsher,  and  a  flash  of  anger,  as  it  were,  darted 
from  her  eyes. 

"  I  suffered  exceedingly  in  that  asylum,"  she  re- 
sumed. "  Sister  Calliste  left  the  establishment,  and  all 
the  surroundings  chilled  and  repelled  me.  My  only  few 
hours  of  happiness  were  on  Sundays,  when  we  attended 
church.  As  the  great  organ  pealed,  and  as  I  watched 
the  priests  officiating  at  the  altar  in  their  gorgeous 
vestments,  I  forgot  my  own  sorrows.  It  seemed  to  me 
that  I  was  ascending  on  the  clouds  of  incense  to  the 
celestial  sphere  which  the  sisters  so  often  talked  to  us 
about,  and  where  they  said  each  little  girl  would  find 
her  mother." 

Mademoiselle  Marguerite  hesitated  for  an  instant,  as 


172  THE   COUNTS    MILLIONS 

if  she  were  somewhat  unwilling  to  give  utterance  to  her 
thoughts;  but  at  last,  forcing  herself  to  continue,  she 
said :  "  Yes,  I  suffered  exceedingly  in  that  foundling 
asylum.  Almost  all  my  little  companions  were  spiteful, 
unattractive  in  person,  sallow,  thin,  and  afflicted  with 
all  kinds  of  diseases,  as  if  they  were  not  unfortunate 
enough  in  being  abandoned  by  their  parents.  And — to 
my  shame,  monsieur,  I  must  confess  it — these  unfor- 
tunate little  beings  inspired  me  with  unconquerable  re- 
pugnance, with  disgust  bordering  on  aversion.  I  would 
rather  have  pressed  my  lips  to  a  red-hot  iron  than  to 
the  forehead  of  one  of  these  children.  I  did  not  reason 
on  the  subject,  alas !  I  was  only  eight  or  nine  years 
old ;  but  I  felt  this  antipathy  in  every  fibre  of  my  being. 
The  others  knew  it  too;  and,  in  revenge,  they  ironi- 
cally styled  me  '  the  lady,'  and  left  me  severely  alone. 
But  sometimes,  during  playtime,  when  the  good  sisters' 
backs  were  turned,  the  children  attacked  me,  beat  me, 
and  scratched  my  face  and  tore  my  clothes.  I  endured 
these  onslaughts  uncomplainingly,  for  I  was  conscious 
that  I  deserved  them.  But  how  many  reprimands  my 
torn  clothes  cost  me !  How  many  times  I  received  only 
a  dry  crust  for  my  supper,  after  being  soundly  scolded 
and  called  '  little  careless.'  But  as  I  was  quiet,  studi- 
ous, and  industrious,  a  quicker  learner  than  the  ma- 
jority of  my  companions,  the  sisters  were  fond  of  me. 
They  said  that  I  was  a  promising  girl,  and  that  they 
would  have  no  difficulty  in  finding  me  a  nice  home 
with  some  of  the  rich  and  pious  ladies  who  have  a 
share  in  managing  institutions  of  this  kind.  The  only 
fault  the  sisters  found  with  me  was  that  I  was  sullen. 
But  such  was  not  really  the  case;  I  was  only  sad  and 
resigned.  Everything  around  me  so  depressed  and 
saddened  me  that  I  withdrew  into  myself,  and  buried 


THE   COUNT'S   MILLIONS  173 

all  my  thoughts  and  aspirations  deep  in  my  heart.  If 
I  had  naturally  been  a  bad  child,  I  scarcely  know  what 
would  have  been  the  result  of  this.  I  have  often  asked 
myself  the  question  in  all  sincerity,  but  I  have  been 
unable  to  reply,  for  one  cannot  be  an  impartial  judge 
respecting  one's  self.  However,  this  much  is  certain, 
although  childhood  generally  leaves  a  train  of  pleasant 
recollections  in  a  young  girl's  life,  mine  was  only 
fraught  with  torture  and  misery,  desperate  struggles, 
and  humiliation.  I  was  unwilling  to  be  confirmed  be- 
cause I  did  not  wish  to  wear  a  certain  dress  which  a 
'  benevolent  lady '  had  presented  for  the  use  of  the 
asylum,  and  which  had  belonged  to  a  little  girl  of  my 
own  age  who  had  died  of  consumption.  The  thought 
of  arraying  myself  in  this  dress  to  approach  the  holy 
table  frightened  and  revolted  me  as  much  as  if  I  had 
been  sentenced  to  drape  myself  in  a  winding-sheet.  And 
yet  it  was  the  prettiest  dress  of  all — white  muslin  beau- 
tifully embroidered.  It  had  been  ardently  coveted  by 
the  other  children,  and  had  been  given  to  me  as  a  sort 
of  reward  of  merit.  And  I  dared  not  explain  the  cause 
of  my  unconquerable  repugnance.  Who  would  have 
understood  me?  I  should  only  have  been  accused  of 
undue  sensitiveness  and  pride,  absurd  in  one  of  my 
humble  position.  I  was  then  only  twelve  years  old; 
but  no  one  knew  the  struggle  in  my  mind  save  the  old 
priest,  my  confessor.  I  could  confess  everything  to 
him ;  he  understood  me,  and  did  not  reproach  me.  Still 
he  answered :  '  You  must  wear  this  dress,  my 
child,  for  your  pride  must  be  broken.  Go — I  shall 
impose  no  other  penance  on  you.'  I  obeyed  him, 
full  of  superstitious  terror;  for  it  seemed  to  me 
that  this  was  a  frightful  omen  which  would  bring 
me  misfortune,  my  whole  life  through.  And  I 


174  THE   COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

was     confirmed     in     the     dead     girl's     embroidered 
dress." 

During  the  five-and-twenty  years  that  he  had  held 
the  position  of  justice  of  the  peace,  the  magistrate  had 
listened  to  many  confessions,  wrung  from  wretched 
souls  by  stern  necessity,  or  sorrow,  but  never  had  his 
heart  been  moved  as  it  now  was,  by  this  narrative,  told 
with  such  uncomplaining  anguish,  and  in  a  tone  of 
such  sincerity.  However  she  resumed  her  story.  "The 
confirmation  over,  our  life  became  as  gloomily  monot- 
onous as  before ;  we  read  the  same  pious  books  and  did 
the  same  work  at  the  same  hours  as  formerly.  It 
seemed  to  me  that  I  was  stifling  in  this  atmosphere.  I 
gasped  for  breath,  and  thought  that  anything  would  be 
preferable  to  this  semblance  of  existence,  which  was 
not  real  life.  I  was  thinking  of  applying  for  the  '  good 
situation/  which  had  so  often  been  mentioned  to  me, 
when  one  morning  I  was  summoned  into  the  steward's 
office — a  mysterious  and  frightful  place  to  us  children. 
He  himself  was  a  stout,  dirty  man,  wearing  large  blue 
spectacles  and  a  black  silk  skullcap;  and  from  morn- 
ing until  night,  summer  and  winter,  he  sat  writing  at  a 
desk  behind  a  little  grating,  hung  with  green  curtains. 
Round  the  room  were  ranged  the  registers,  in  which 
our  names  were  recorded  and  our  appearances  de- 
scribed, together  with  the  boxes  containing  the  articles 
found  upon  us,  which  were  carefully  preserved  to  assist 
in  identifying  us  should  occasion  arise.  I  entered  this 
office  with  a  throbbing  heart.  In  addition  to  the  stout 
gentleman  and  the  Lady  Superior,  I  found  there  a 
thin,  wiry  man,  with  cunning  eyes,  and  a  portly  woman, 
with  a  coarse  but  rather  good-natured  face.  The  su- 
perior at  once  informed  me  that  I  was  in  the  presence 
of  M.  and  Madame  Greloux,  bookbinders,  who  had 


THE   COUNT'S   MILLIONS  175 

come  to  the  asylum  in  search  of  two  apprentices,  and 
she  asked  me  if  I  should  like  to  be  one  of  them.  Ah ! 
monsieur,  it  seemed  to  me  that  heaven  had  opened  be- 
fore me  and  I  boldly  replied :  '  Yes.'  The  gentleman  in 
the  black  skullcap  immediately  emerged  from  his  place 
behind  the  grating  to  explain  my  obligations  and  duties 
to  me  at  length,  especially  insisting  upon  the  point,  that 
I  ought  to  be  grateful — I,  a  miserable  foundling,  reared 
by  public  charity — for  the  generosity  which  this  good 
gentleman  and  lady  showed  in  offering  to  take  charge 
of  me  and  employ  me  in  their  workshop.  I  must  con- 
fess that  I  could  not  clearly  realize  in  what  this  great 
generosity  which  he  so  highly  praised  consisted,  nor  did 
I  perceive  any  reason  why  I  should  be  particularly 
grateful.  Still,  to  all  the  conditions  imposed  upon  me, 
I  answered,  '  Yes,  yes,  yes ! '  so  heartily  that  Madame 
Greloux  seemed  greatly  pleased.  '  It  is  evident  that 
the  child  will  be  glad  to  get  away/  she  said  to  herself. 
Then  the  superior  began  to  enumerate  the  obligations 
my  employers  would  incur,  repeating  again  and  again 
that  I  was  one  of  the  very  best  girls  in  the  asylum — 
pious,  obedient,  and  industrious,  reading  and  writing 
to  perfection,  and  knowing  how  to  sew  and  embroider 
as  only  those  who  are  taught  in  such  institutions  can. 
She  made  Madame  Greloux  promise  to  watch  over  me 
as  she  would  have  watched  over  her  own  daughter; 
never  to  leave  me  alone;  to  take  me  to  church,  and 
allow  me  an  occasional  Sunday  afternoon,  so  that  I 
might  pay  a  visit  to  the  asylum.  The  gentleman  with 
the  spectacles  and  the  skullcap  then  reminded  the  book- 
binder of  the  duties  of  an  employer  toward  his  appren- 
tices, and  turning  to  a  bookcase  behind  him,  he  even 
took  down  a  large  volume  from  which  he  read  extract 
after  extract,  which  I  listened  to  without  understand- 


176  THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS 

ing  a  word,  though  I  was  quite  sure  that  the  book  was 
written  in  French.  At  last,  when  the  man  and  his  wife 
had  said  <  Amen '  to  everything,  the  gentleman  with 
the  spectacles  drew  up  a  document  which  we  all  signed 
in  turn.  I  belonged  to  a  master  ?  " 

She  paused.  Here  her  childhood  ended.  But  almost 
immediately  she  resumed :  "  My  recollections  of  these 
people  are  not  altogether  unpleasant.  They  were 
harassed  and  wearied  by  their  efforts  to  support  their 
son  in  a  style  of  living  far  above  their  position;  but, 
despite  their  sacrifices,  their  son  had  no  affection  for 
them,  and  on  this  account  I  pitied  them.  However,  not 
only  was  the  husband  gloomy  and  quick-tempered,  but 
his  wife  also  was  subject  to  fits  of  passion,  so  that 
the  apprentices  often  had  a  hard  time  of  it.  Still,  be- 
tween Madame  Greloux's  tempests  of  wrath  there  were 
occasional  gleams  of  sunshine.  After  beating  us  for 
nothing,  she  would  exclaim,  with  quite  as  little  reason, 
(  Come  and  kiss  me,  and  don't  pout  any  more.  Here 
are  four  sous;  go  and  buy  yourself  some  cakes/ ?; 

The  justice  started  in  his  arm-chair.  Was  it,  indeed, 
Mademoiselle  Marguerite  who  was  speaking,  the  proud 
young  girl  with  a  queenlike  bearing,  whose  voice  rang 
out  like  crystal?  Was  it  she  indeed,  who  imitated  the 
harsh,  coarse  dialect  of  the  lower  classes  with  such 
accuracy  of  intonation?  Ah!  at  that  moment,  as  her 
past  life  rose  so  vividly  before  her,  it  seemed  to  her  as 
if  she  were  still  in  the  years  gone  by,  and  she  fancied 
she  could  still  hear  the  voice  of  the  bookbinder's  wife. 

She  did  not  even  notice  the  magistrate's  astonish- 
ment. "I  had  left  the  asylum,"  she  continued,  "and 
that  was  everything  to  me.  I  felt  that  a  new  and  dif- 
ferent life  was  beginning,  and  that  was  enough.  I 
flattered  myself  that  I  might  win  a  more  earnest  and 


THE   COUNT'S   MILLIONS  177 

sincere  affection  among  these  honest,  industrious  toilers, 
than  I  had  found  in  the  asylum;  and  to  win  it  and 
deserve  it,  I  neglected  nothing  that  good-will  could  sug- 
gest., or  strength  allow.  My  patrons  no  doubt  fathomed 
my  desire,  and  naturally  enough,  perhaps  unconsciously, 
they  took  advantage  of  my  wish  to  please.  I  can 
scarcely  blame  them.  I  had  entered  their  home  under 
certain  conditions  in  view  of  learning  a  profession; 
they  gradually  made  me  their  servant — it  was  praise- 
worthy economy  on  their  part.  What  I  had  at  first 
done  of  my  own  freewill  and  from  a  wish  to  please, 
at  last  became  my  daily  task,  which  I  was  rigidly  re- 
quired to  fulfil.  Compelled  to  rise  long  before  any  one 
else  in  the  house,  I  was  expected  to  have  everything 
in  order  by  the  time  the  others  made  their  appearance 
with  their  eyes  still  heavy  with  sleep.  It  is  true  that 
my  benefactors  rewarded  me  after  their  fashion.  On 
Sundays  they  took  me  with  them  on  their  excursions 
into  the  country,  so  as  to  give  me  a  rest,  they  said,  after 
the  week's  work.  And  I  followed  them  along  the  dusty 
highways  in  the  hot  sunshine,  panting,  perspiring,  and 
tottering  under  the  weight  of  a  heavy  basket  of  pro- 
visions, which  were  eaten  on  the  grass  or  in  the  woods, 
and  the  remnants  of  which  fell  to  me.  Madame  Gre- 
loux's  brother  generally  accompanied  us ;  and  his  name 
would  have  lingered  in  my  memory,  even  if  it  had  not 
been  a  peculiar  one.  He  was  called  Vantrasson.  He 
was  a  tall,  robust  man,  with  eyes  that  made  me  tremble 
whenever  he  fixed  them  upon  me.  He  was  a  soldier; 
intensely  proud  of  his  uniform;  a  great  talker,  and 
enchanted  with  himself.  He  evidently  thought  himself 
irresistible.  It  was  from  that  man's  mouth  that  I  heard 
the  first  coarse  word  at  which  my  unsophisticated  heart 
took  offence.  It  was  not  to  be  the  last  one.  He  finally 


178  THE   COUNT'S   MILLIONS 

told  me  that  he  had  taken  a  fancy  to  me,  and  I  was 
obliged  to  complain  to  Madame  Greloux  of  her  brother's 
persecutions.  But  she  only  laughed  at  me,  and  said : 
'  Nonsense !  He's  merely  talking  to  hear  himself  talk.' 
Yes,  that  was  her  answer.  And  yet  she  was  an  honest 
woman,  a  devoted  wife,  and  a  fond  mother.  Ah !  if  she 
had  had  a  daughter.  But  with  a  poor  apprentice,  who 
has  neither  father  nor  mother,  one  need  not  be  over- 
fastidious.  She  had  made  a  great  many  promises  to  the 
lady  superior,  but  she  fancied  that  the  utterance  of  a  few 
commonplace  words  of  warning  relieved  her  of  all 
further  obligations.  '  And  so  much  the  worse  for  those 
who  allow  themselves  to  be  fooled,'  she  always  added 
in  conclusion. 

"  Fortunately,  my  pride,  which  I  had  so  often  been 
reproached  with,  shielded  me.  My  condition  might  be 
humble,  but  my  spirit  was  lofty.  It  was  a  blessing 
from  God,  this  pride  of  mine,  for  it  saved  me  from 
temptation,  while  so  many  fell  around  me.  I  slept, 
with  the  other  apprentices,  in  the  attic,  where  we  were 
entirely  beyond  the  control  of  those  who  should  have 
been  our  guardians.  That  is  to  say,  when  the  day's  toil 
was  over,  and  the  work-shop  closed,  we  were  free — 
abandoned  to  our  own  instincts,  and  the  most  pernicious 
influences.  And  neither  evil  advice  nor  bad  example 
was  wanting.  The  women  employed  in  the  bindery  in 
nowise  restrained  themselves  in  our  presence,  and  we 
heard  them  tell  marvellous  stories  that  dazzled  many  a 
poor  girl.  They  did  not  talk  as  they  did  from  any  evil 
design,  or  out  of  a  spirit  of  calculation,  but  from  pure 
thoughtlessness,  and  because  they  were  quite  devoid  of 
moral  sense.  And  they  never  tired  of  telling  us  of 
the  pleasures  of  life,  of  fine  dinners  at  restaurants,  gay 
excursions  to  Joinville-le-Pont,  and  masked  balls  at 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  179 

Montparnasse  or  the  Elysee  Montmartre.  Ah !  experi- 
ence is  quickly  gained  in  these  work-shops.  Sometimes 
those  who  went  off  at  night  with  ragged  dresses  and 
worn-out  shoes,  returned  the  next  morning  in  superb 
toilettes  to  say  that  they  resigned  their  situations,  as 
they  were  not  made  for  work,  and  intended  to  live  like 
ladies.  They  departed  radiant,  but  often  before  a 
month  was  ove"r  they  came  back,  emaciated,  hollow- 
eyed,  and  despairing,  and  humbly  begged  for  a  little 
work." 

She  paused,  so  crushed  by  the  weight  of  these  sad 
memories  as  to  lose  consciousness  of  the  present.  And 
the  judge  also  remained  silent,  not  daring  to  question 
her.  And,  besides,  what  good  would  it  do?  What 
could  she  tell  him  about  these  poor  little  apprentices 
that  he  did  not  know  already?  If  he  was  surprised  at 
anything,  it  was  that  this  beautiful  young  girl,  who  had 
been  left  alone  and  defenceless,  had  possessed  sufficient 
strength  of  character  to  escape  the  horrible  dangers 
that  threatened  her. 

However,  it  was  not  long  before  Mademoiselle  Mar- 
guerite shook  off  the  torpor  which  had  stolen  over  her. 
"  I  ought  not  to  boast  of  my  strength,  sir,"  she  re- 
sumed. "  Besides  my  pride,  I  had  a  hope  to  sustain 
me — a  hope  which  I  clung  to  with  the  tenacity  of  de- 
spair. I  wished  to  become  expert  at  my  profession, 
for  I  had  learned  that  skilled  workers  were  always  in 
demand,  and  could  always  command  good  wages.  So 
when  my  household  duties  were  over,  I  still  found  time 
to  learn  the  business,  and  made  such  rapid  progress 
that  I  astonished  even  my  employer.  I  knew  that  I 
should  soon  be  able  to  make  five  or  six  francs  a  day; 
and  this  prospect  was  pleasant  enough  to  make  me  for- 
get the  present,  well-nigh  intolerable  as  it  sometimes 


180  THE   COUNT'S   MILLIONS 

was.  During  the  last  winter  that  I  spent  with  my  em- 
ployers, their  orders  were  so  numerous  and  pressing 
that  they  worked  on  Sundays  as  well  as  on  week  days, 
and  it  was  with  difficulty  that  I  obtained  an  hour  twice 
a  month  to  pay  a  visit  to  the  good  sisters  who  had 
cared  for  me  in  my  childhood.  I  had  never  failed  in 
this  duty,  and  indeed  it  had  now  become  my  only 
pleasure.  My  employer's  conscience  compelled  him  to 
pay  me  a  trifle  occasionally  for  the  additional  toil  he 
imposed  upon  me,  and  the  few  francs  I  thus  received 
I  carried  to  the  poor  children  at  the  asylum.  After  liv- 
ing all  my  life  on  public  charity,  I  was  able  to  give 
in  my  turn;  and  this  thought  gratified  my  pride,  and 
increased  my  importance  in  my  own  eyes.  I  was 
nearly  fifteen,  and  my  term  of  apprenticeship  had  al- 
most expired,  when  one  bright  day  in  March,  I  saw 
one  of  the  lay  sisters  of  the  asylum  enter  the  work- 
room. She  was  in  a  flutter  of  excitement;  her  face 
was  crimson,  and  she  was  so  breathless  from  her  hur- 
ried ascent  of  the  stairs  that  she  gasped  rather  than 
said  to  me :  '  Quick !  come — follow  me  !  Some  one  is 
waiting  for  you  ! '  '  Who  ? — where  ?  ' — '  Make  haste ! 

Ah !  my  dear  child,  if  you  only  knew '    I  hesitated ; 

but  Madame  Greloux  pushed  me  toward  the  door,  ex- 
claiming :  '  Be  off,  you  little  stupid ! '  I  followed  the 
sister  without  thinking  of  changing  my  dress — without 
even  removing  the  kitchen  apron  I  wore.  Downstairs, 
at  the  front  door,  stood  the  most  magnificent  carriage 
I  had  ever  seen  in  my  life.  Its  rich  silk  cushions  were 
so  beautiful  that  I  scarcely  dared  to  enter  it ;  and  I  was 
all  the  more  intimidated  by  a  footman  in  gorgeous 
livery,  who  respectfully  opened  the  door  at  our  ap- 
proach. 'You  must  get  into  the  carriage,'  said  the 
sister;  '  it  was  sent  for  you.'  I  obeyed  her,  and  before 


THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS  181 

I  had  recovered  from  my  astonishment  we  had  reached 
the  asylum,  and  I  was  ushered  into  the  office  where 
the  contract  which  bound  me  as  an  apprentice  had  been 
signed.  As  soon  as  I  entered,  the  superior  took  me 
by  the  hand  and  led  me  toward  a  gentleman  who  was 
sitting  near  the  window.  '  Marguerite/  said  she,  '  salute 
Monsieur  le  Comte  de  Chalusse."; 

IX. 

FOR  some  little  time  there  had  been  a  noise  of  footsteps 
and  a  subdued  murmur  of  voices  in  the  vestibule.  An- 
noyed by  this  interruption,  although  he  perfectly  under- 
stood its  cause,  the  magistrate  rose  and  hastily  openec 
the  door.  He  was  not  mistaken.  His  clerk  had  re- 
turned from  lunch,  and  the  time  of  waiting  seemed 
extremely  long  to  him.  "  Ah !  it's  you,"  said  the  magis- 
trate. "  Very  well !  begin  your  inventory.  It  won't 
be  long  before  I  join  you."  And  closing  the  door  he 
resumed  his  seat  again.  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  was 
so  absorbed  in  her  narrative  that  she  scarcely  noticed 
this  incident,  and  he  had  not  seated  himself  before  she 
resumed.  "  In  all  my  life,  I  had  never  seen  such  an 
imposing  looking  person  as  the  Count  de  Chalusse. 
His  manner,  attire,  and  features  could  not  fail  to  in- 
spire a  child  like  me  with  fear  and  respect.  I  was  so 
awed  that  I  had  scarcely  enough  presence  of  mind  to 
bow  to  him.  He  glanced  at  me  coldly,  and  exclaimed : 
'  Ah !  is  this  the  young  girl  you  were  speaking  of  ? y 
The  count's  tone  betrayed  such  disagreeable  surprise 
that  the  superior  was  dismayed.  She  looked  at  me, 
and  seemed  indignant  at  my  more  than  modest  attire. 
( It's  a  shame  to  allow  a  child  to  leave  home  dressed  in 
this  fashion,'  she  angrily  exclaimed.  And  she  almost 


182  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

tore  my  huge  apron  off  me,  and  then  with  her  own 
hands  began  to  arrange  my  hair  as  if  to  display  me  to 
better  advantage.  'Ah!  these  employers/  she  ex- 
claimed, 'the  best  of  them  are  bad.  How  they  do 
deceive  you.  It's  impossible  to  place  any  confidence  in 
their  promises.  Still,  one  can't  always  be  at  their 
heels/ 

"  But  the  superior's  efforts  were  wasted,  for  M.  de 
Chalusse  had  turned  away  and  had  begun  talking  with 
some  gentlemen  near  by.  For  the  office  was  full  that 
morning.  Five  or  six  gentlemen,  whom  I  recognized 
as  the  directors  of  the  asylum,  were  standing  round  the 
steward  in  the  black  skullcap.  They  were  evidently 
talking  about  me.  I  was  certain  of  this  by  the  glances 
they  gave  me,  glances  which,  however,  were  full  of 
kindness.  The  superior  joined  the  group  and  began 
speaking  with  unusual  vivacity,  while  standing  in  the 
recess  of  a  window,  I  listened  with  all  my  might.  But 
I  must  have  overestimated  my  intelligence,  for  I  could 
gain  no  meaning  whatever  from  the  phrases  which  fol- 
lowed each  other  in  rapid  succession ;  though  the  words 
'  adoption/  '  emancipation/  '  dowry,'  '  compensation/ 
'  reimbursement  for  sums  expended/  recurred  again 
and  again.  I  was  only  certain  of  one  point :  the  Count 
de  Chalusse  wished  something,  and  these  gentlemen 
were  specifying  other  things  in  exchange.  To  each  of 
their  demands  he  answered:  'Yes,  yes — it's  granted. 
That's  understood.'  But  at  last  he  began  to  grow 
impatient,  and  in  a  voice  which  impressed  one  with  the 
idea  that  he  was  accustomed  to  command,  he  exclaimed, 
'  I  will  do  whatever  you  wish.  Do  you  desire  anything 
more  ? 9  The  gentlemen  at  once  became  silent,  and  the 
superior  hastily  declared  that  M.  de  Chalusse  was  a 
thousand  times  too  good,  but  that  one  could  expect  no 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  183 

less  of  him,  the  last  representative  of  one  of  the  great- 
est and  oldest  families  of  France. 

"  I  cannot  describe  the  surprise  and  indignation  that 
were  raging  in  my  soul.  I  divined — I  felt  that  it  was 
my  fate,  my  future,  my  life  that  were  being  decided, 
and  I  was  not  even  consulted  on  the  matter.  They 
were  disposing  of  me  as  if  they  were  sure  in  advance 
of  my  consent.  My  pride  revolted  at  the  thought,  but 
I  could  not  find  a  word  to  say  in  protest.  Crimson  with 
shame.,  confused  and  furious,  I  was  wondering  how  I 
could  interfere,  when  suddenly  the  consultation  ceased 
and  the  gentlemen  at  once  surrounded  me.  One  of 
them,  a  little  old  man  with  a  vapid  smile  and  twinkling 
eyes,  tapped  me  on  the  cheek,  and  said :  '  So  she  is  as 
/good  as  she  is  pretty!'  I  could  have  struck  him;  but 
all  the  others  laughed  approvingly,  with  the  exception 
of  M.  de  Chalusse,  whose  manner  became  more  and 
more  frigid,  and  whose  lips  wore  a  constrained  smile, 
as  if  he  had  resolved  to  keep  his  temper  despite  all 
provocation.  It  seemed  to  me  that  he  was  suffering 
terribly,  and  I  afterward  learned  that  I  had  not  been 
mistaken.  Far  from  imitating  the  old  gentleman's 
manner,  he  bowed  to  me  very  gravely,  with  an  air  of 
deference  that  quite  abashed  me,  and  went  away  after 
saying  that  he  would  return  the  next  day  to  conclude 
the  arrangements. 

"  I  was  at  last  left  alone  with  the  superior,  whom  I 
longed  to  question,  but  she  gave  me  no  time  to  do  so, 
for  with  extreme  volubility  she  began  to  tell  me  of  my 
surprising  good  fortune,  which  was  an  unanswerable 
and  conclusive  proof  of  the  kindness  and  protection  of 
Providence.  '  The  count,'  she  said,  '  was  to  become 
my  guardian.  He  would  certainly  give  me  a  dowry; 
and  by  and  by,  if  I  were  grateful  to  him  for  his  good- 


184  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

ness,  he  would  adopt  me,  a  poor,  fatherless  and  mother- 
less girl,  and  I  should  bear  the  great  name  of  Durtal 
de  Chalusse,  and  inherit  an  immense  fortune/  In  con- 
clusion, she  said  that  there  was  no  limit  to  the  count's 
generosity,  that  he  had  consented  to  reimburse  the 
asylum  the  money  that  had  been  spent  on  me,  that  he 
<had  offered  to  dower,  I  do  not  know  how  many  poor 
girls,  and  that  he  had  promised  to  build  a  chapel  for 
the  use  of  the  establishment.  This  was  all  true,  in- 
credible as  it  might  seem.  That  very  morning,  M.  de 
Chalusse  had  called  at  the  asylum,  declared  that  he 
was  old  and  childless,  a  bachelor  without  any  near 
relatives,  and  that  he  wished  to  adopt  a  poor  orphan. 
They  had  given  him  a  list  of  all  the  children  in  the 
institution,  and  he  had  chosen  me.  '  A  mere  chance, 
my  dear  Marguerite/  repeated  the  superior.  e  A  mere 
chance — or  rather  a  true  miracle.'  It  did,  indeed,  seem 
a  miracle,  but  I  was  more  surprised  than  elated.  I 
longed  to  be  alone,  so  as  to  deliberate  and  reflect,  for 
I  knew  that  I  was  free  to  accept  or  decline  this  dazzling 
offer. 

"I  timidly  asked  permission  to  return  to  my  em- 
ployers to  inform  them  of  what  had  happened  and  con- 
sult with  them;  but  my  request  was  refused.  The 
superior  told  me  that  I  must  deliberate  and  decide 
alone ;  and  that  when  once  my  decision  was  taken,  there 
could  be  no  change.  So  I  remained  at  the  asylum,  and 
dined  at  the  superior's  table;  and  during  the  night  I 
occupied  the  room  of  a  sister  who  was  absent.  What 
surprised  me  most  of  all  was  the  deference  with  which 
I  was  treated.  The  sisters  all  seemed  to  consider  me 
a  person  of  great  importance.  And  yet  I  hesitated. 

"  My  indecision  may  seem  absurd  and  hypocritical ; 
but  it  was  really  sincere.  My  present  situation  was 


THE   COUNTS   MILLIONS  185 

certainly  by  no  means  an  enviable  one.  But  the  worst 
was  over;  my  term  as  an  apprentice  had  nearly  ex- 
pired, and  my  future  seemed  assured.  My  future! 
What  could  it  be  with  the  Count  de  Chalusse?  It  was 
painted  in  such  brilliant  colors  that  it  frightened  me. 
Why  had  the  count  chosen  me  in  preference  to  any  of 
the  other  girls?  Was  it  really  chance  which  had  de- 
cided him  in  his  choice?  On  reflecting,  the  miracle 
seemed  to  me  to  have  been  prepared  in  advance,  and  I 
fancied  that  it  must  conceal  some  mystery.  More  than 
this,  the  thought  of  yielding  myself  up  to  a  stranger 
terrified  me.  Forty-eight  hours  had  been  granted  me 
to  consider  my  decision,  and  till  the  very  last  instant  I 
remained  in  doubt.  Who  knows?  Perhaps  it  would 
have  been  better  for  me  if  I  had  returned  to  my  humble 
life.  At  all  events,  I  should  have  been  spared  a  great 
deal  of  sorrow  and  humiliation.  But  I  lacked  the  cour- 
age; and  when  the  time  expired,  I  consented  to  the 
new  arrangement. 

"  Should  I  live  a  thousand  years  I  shall  never  forget 
the  day  I  left  the  foundling  asylum  to  become  the  Count 
de  Chalusse's  ward.  It  was  a  Saturday,  and  I  had 
given  my  answer  to  the  superior  on  the  evening  before. 
The  next  morning  I  received  a  visit  from  my  former 
employers,  who,  having  been  informed  of  the  great 
change  in  my  prospects,  had  come  to  bid  me  good-bye. 
The  cancelling  of  my  apprenticeship  had  at  first  caused 
some  trouble,  but  eventually  the  count's  gold  silenced 
their  objections.  Still,  they  were  sorry  to  part  with 
me,  as  I  plainly  saw.  Their  eyes  were  moist  with 
tears.  They  were  sorry  to  lose  the  poor  little  servant 
who  had  served  them  so  faithfully.  At  the  same  time, 
however,  I  noticed  evident  constraint  in  their  manner. 
They  no  longer  said  '  thee '  and  '  thou '  to  me ;  they 


186  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

no  longer  spoke  roughly;  but  they  said  'you/  and  ad- 
dressed me  as  ' mademoiselle/  Poor  people!  they 
awkwardly  apologized  for  having  ventured  to  accept 
my  services,  declaring  in  the  same  breath  that  they 
should  never  be  able  to  replace  me  at  the  same  price. 
Madame  Greloux,  moreover,  declared  that  she  should 
never  forgive  herself  for  not  having  sharply  reproved 
her  brother  for  his  abominable  conduct.  He  was  a 
good-for-nothing  fellow,  she  said,  as  was  proved  by 
the  fact  that  he  had  dared  to  raise  his  eyes  to  me. 
For  the  first  time  in  my  life,  I  felt  that  I  was  sincerely 
loved;  and  I  was  so  deeply  touched  that  if  my  decision 
had  not  been  written  and  signed,  I  should  certainly 
have  returned  to  live  with  these  worthy  people.  But 
it  was  too  late.  A  sister  came  to  tell  me  that  the 
superior  wished  to  see  me.  I  bade  Father  and  Mother 
Greloux  farewell  and  went  downstairs. 

e<  In  the  superior's  room,  a  lady  and  two  shop-girls, 
laden  with  boxes  and  parcels,  were  waiting  for  me.  It 
was  a  dressmaker  who  had  come  with  some  clothes 
suited  to  my  new  station  in  life.  I  was  told  that  she 
had  been  sent  by  the  Count  de  Chalusse.  This  great 
nobleman  thought  of  everything;  and,  although  he  had 
thirty  servants  to  do  his  bidding,  he  never  disdained  to 
occupy  himself  with  the  pettiest  details.  So,  for  the 
first  time,,  I  was  arrayed  in  rustling  silk  and  clinging 
cashmere.  My  toilette  was  no  trifling  affair.  All  the 
good  sisters  clustered  round  me,  and  tried  to  beautify 
me  with  the  same  care  and  patience  as  they  would  have 
displayed  in  adorning  the  Virgin's  statue  for  a  fete-day. 
A  secret  instinct  warned  me  that  they  were  overdoing 
the  matter,  and  that  they  were  making  me  look  ridicu- 
lous; but  I  did  not  mind.  I  allowed  them  to  please 
themselves.  I  could  still  feel  Madame  Greloux's  tears 


THE   COUNTS   MILLIONS  187 

on  my  hand,  and  the  scene  seemed  to  me  as  lugubrious 
as  the  last  toilette  of  a  prisoner  under  sentence  of 
death.  When  they  had  completed  their  task,  I  heard  a 
buzz  of  admiration  round  me.  If  the  sisters  were 
worthy  of  belief,  they  had  never  seen  such  a  wonder- 
ful transformation.  Those  who  were  in  the  class-rooms 
or  the  sewing-room,  were  summoned  to  view  and  ad- 
mire me,  and  some  of  the  elder  children  were  also 
admitted.  Perhaps  I  was  intended  as  an  example  for 
the  latter,  for  I  heard  the  lady  superior  say  to  them, 
'You  see,  my  dear  children,  the  result  of  good  be- 
havior. Be  diligent  and  dutiful,  like  our  dear  Mar- 
guerite, and  God  will  reward  you  as  He  has  rewarded 
her.'  And,  meantime,  miserable  in  my  finery,  I  waited 
— waited  for  M.  de  Chalusse,  who  was  coming  to  take 
me  away. 

"  At  the  appointed  hour  he  appeared,  with  the  same 
air  of  haughty  reserve,  that  had  so  awed  me  on  the 
occasion  of  our  first  meeting.  He  scarcely  deigned  to 
look  at  me,  and  although  I  watched  him  with  poignant 
anxiety,  I  could  read  neither  blame  nor  approval  on 
his  face.  '  You  see  that  your  wishes  have  been  scrupu- 
lously obeyed,  Monsieur  le  Comte,'  said  the  superior. 
e  I  thank  you/  he  replied ;  *  and  I  shall  prove  the  ex- 
tent of  my  gratitude  to  the  poor  children  under  your 
charge.'  Then,  turning  to  me:  'Marguerite,'  he  said, 
'take  leave  of — your  mothers,  and  tell  them  that  you 
will  never  forget  their  kindness.'  * 

The  girl  paused,  for  her  emotion  had  rendered  her 
words  almost  unintelligible.  But,  with  an  effort,  she 
speedily  conquered  her  weakness. 

"  It  was  only  then,"  she  continued,  "  that  I  realized 
how  much  I  loved  these  poor  nuns,  whom  I  had  some- 
times almost  cursed.  I  felt  now  how  close  the  ties 


188      <,,     THE   COUNT'S   MILLIONS 

were,  that  bound  me  to  this  hospitable  roof,  and  to 
these  unfortunate  children,  my  companions  in  misery 
and  loneliness.  It  seemed  to  me  as  if  my  heart  were 
breaking;  and  the  superior,  who  was  generally  so  im- 
passible, appeared  scarcely  less  moved  than  myself.  At 
last,  M.  de  Chalusse  took  me  by  the  hand  and  led  me 
away.  In  the  street  there  was  a  carriage  waiting  for 
us,  not  such  a  beautiful  one  as  that  which  had  been 
sent  to  fetch  me  from  my  workshop,  but  a  much 
larger  one,  with  trunks  and  boxes  piled  on  its  roof. 
It  was  drawn  by  four  gray  horses.  I  felt  more  dead 
than  alive,  as  I  entered  the  carriage  and  took  the  seat 
which  the  count  pointed  out.  He  sat  down  opposite 
to  me.  All  the  sisters  had  assembled  at  the  door  of 
the  asylum,  and  even  the  superior  wept  without  making 
any  attempt  to  hide  her  tears.  '  Farewell ! '  they  all 
cried ;  '  farewell,  farewell,  dear  child !  Don't  forget 
your  old  friends.  We  shall  pray  for  your  happiness.' 
Alas!  God  could  not  have  heard  their  prayers.  At  a 
sign  from  M.  de  Chalusse,  a  footman  closed  the  door, 
the  postilions  cracked  their  whips,  and  the  heavy 
vehicle  rolled  away. 

"The  die  was  cast.  Henceforth,  an  impassable  gulf 
was  to  separate  me  from  this  asylum,  whither  I  had 
been  carried  in  my  infancy  half  dead,  and  wrapped  in 
swaddling  clothes,  from  which  every  mark  that  could 
possibly  lead  to  identification  had  been  carefully  cut 
away.  Whatever  my  future  might  prove,  I  felt  that 
my  past  was  gone  forever.  But  I  was  too  greatly 
agitated  even  to  think;  and  crouching  in  a  corner  of 
the  carriage,  I  watched  M.  de  Chalusse  with  the  poig- 
nant anxiety  a  slave  displays  as  he  studies  his  new 
master.  Ah!  monsieur,  what  a  wondrous  change!  A 
mask  seemed  to  have  fallen  from  the  count's  face;  his 


THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS  189 

lips  quivered,  a  tender  light  beamed  in  his  eyes,  and 
he  drew  me  to  him,  exclaiming :  '  Oh,  Marguerite !  my 
beloved  Marguerite !  At  last — at  last ! '  He  sobbed — 
this  old  man,  whom  I  had  thought  as  cold  and  as  in- 
sensible as  marble;  he  crushed  me  in  his  close  embrace, 
he  almost  smothered  me  with  kisses.  And  I  was 
frightfully  agitated  by  the  strange,  indefinable  feeling, 
kindled  in  my  heart;  but  I  no  longer  trembled  with 
fear.  An  inward  voice  whispered  that  this  was  but  the 
renewal  of  a  former  tie — one  which  had  somehow  been 
mysteriously  broken.  However,  as  I  remembered  the 
superior's  assertion  that  it  was  a  miracle  in  my  favor 
— a  wonderful  interposition  of  Providence,  I  had  cour- 
age enough  to  ask :  (  So  it  was  not  chance  that  guided 
you  in  your  choice  ? ' 

"  My  question  seemed  to  take  him  by  surprise.  '  Poor 
Marguerite ! '  he  murmured,  '  dearly  beloved  child !  for 
years  I  have  been  laboring  to  bring  about  this  chance ! ' 
Instantly  all  the  romantic  stories  I  had  heard  in  the 
asylum  recurred  to  my  mind.  And  Heaven  knows 
there  are  plenty  of  these  stories  transmitted  by  the 
sisters  from  generation  to  generation,  till  they  have 
become  a  sort  of  Golden  Legend  for  poor  foundlings. 
That  sad  formula,  '  Father  and  mother  unknown/ 
which  figures  on  certificates  of  birth,  acts  as  a  danger- 
ous stimulant  for  unhealthy  imaginations,  and  leaves 
an  open  door  for  the  most  extravagant  hopes.  And 
thus  influenced,  I  fixed  my  eyes  on  the  face  of  the 
Count  de  Chalusse,  striving  to  discover  some  resem- 
blance in  his  features  to  my  own.  But  he  did  not 
seem  to  notice  my  intent  gaze,  and  following  his  train 
of  thought,  he  muttered :  '  Chance !  It  was  necessary 
that  they  should  think  so,  and  they  did  think  so.  And 
yet  the  cleverest  detectives  in  Paris,  from  old  Tabaret 


190  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

to  Fortunat,  both  masters  in  the  art  of  following  up  a 
clue,  had  exhausted  their  resources  in  helping  me  in 
my  despairing  search.'  The  agony  of  suspense  I  was 
enduring  had  become  intolerable;  and  unable  to  re- 
strain myself  longer,  I  exclaimed,  with  a  wildly  throb- 
bing heart:  'Then,  you  are  my  father,  Monsieur  le 
Comte?'  He  pressed  his  hand  to  my  lips  with  such 
violence  that  he  hurt  me,  and  then,  in  a  voice  quiver- 
ing with  excitement,  he  replied :  '  Imprudent  girl ! 
What  can  you  mean?  Forget  that  unfortunate  idea. 
Never  utter  the  name  of  father — you  hear  me — never ! 
I  forbid  it ! '  He  had  become  extremely  pale,  and  he 
looked  anxiously  around  him,  as  if  he  feared  that 
some  one  had  overheard  me — as  if  he  had  forgotten 
that  we  were  alone  in  a  carriage  which  was  dashing 
onward  at  full  speed! 

"  I  was  stupefied  and  alarmed  by  the  sudden  terror 
which  M.  de  Chalusse  had  displayed  and  could  not 
control.  What  could  it  all  mean?  What  sorrowful 
recollections,  what  mysterious  apprehensions,  had  my 
words  aroused  in  the  count's  mind  ?  I  could  not  under- 
stand or  imagine  why  he  should  regard  my  question  as 
strange  or  unnatural.  On  the  contrary,  I  thought  it 
perfectly  natural,  dictated  as  it  had  been  by  circum- 
stances, and  by  the  count's  own  words  and  manner. 
And,  in  spite  of  my  confusion  and  agitation,  the  in- 
explicable voice  which  we  call  presentiment  whispered 
in  my  heart :  '  He  has  forbidden  you  to  call  him  father, 
but  he  has  not  said  that  he  is  not  your  father/  How- 
ever, I  had  not  time  to  reflect  or  to  question  M.  de 
Chalusse  any  more,  though  at  that  moment  I  should 
have  had  the  courage  to  do  so;  afterward  I  did  not 
dare. 

"  Our  carriage  had  drawn  up  outside  the  railway 


THE   COUNTS   MILLIONS  191 

station,  and  the  next  instant  we  alighted.  Then,  for 
the  first  time,  I  learned  the  magical  power  of  money, 
I,  a  poor  girl — reared  by  public  charity — and  who  for 
three  years  had  worked  for  my  daily  bread.  M.  de 
Chalusse  found  the  servants,  who  were  to  accompany 
us,  awaiting  him.  They  had  thought  of  everything,  and 
made  every  possible  arrangement  for  our  comfort.  I 
had  scarcely  time  to  glance  round  me  before  we  were 
on  the  platform  in  front  of  a  train,  which  was  ready 
to  start.  I  perceived  the  very  carriage  that  had  brought 
us  to  the  station  already  fastened  on  a  low  open  truck, 
and  I  was  advancing  to  climb  into  it,  when  M.  de 
Chalusse  stopped  me.  '  Not  there/  said  he,  '  come  with 
me.'  I  followed  him,  and  he  led  me  to  a  magnificent 
saloon  carriage,  much  higher  and  roomier  than  the 
others,  and  emblazoned  with  the  Chalusse  coat-of-arms. 
'This  is  our  carriage,  dear  Marguerite/  he  said.  I 
got  in.  The  whistle  sounded ;  and  the  train  started  off." 

Mademoiselle  Marguerite  was  growing  very  tired. 
Big  drops  of  perspiration  stood  out  on  her  forehead, 
she  panted  for  breath,  and  her  voice  began  to  fail  her. 

The  magistrate  was  almost  frightened.  "  Pray  rest 
a  little,  mademoiselle,"  he  entreated,  "there  is  no  hurry." 

But  she  shook  her  head  and  replied:  "It  is  better 
to  go  on.  I  should  never  have  courage  to  begin  again 
if  I  paused."  And  thereupon  she  continued :  "I  had  never 
gone  farther  than  Versailles.  This  journey  was  at  first 
as  delightful  as  a  glimpse  into  fairy-land.  Our  carriage 
was  one  of  those  costly  whims  which  some  millionaires 
indulge  in.  It  consisted  of  a  central  saloon — a  perfect 
chef-d'oeuvre  of  taste  and  luxury — with  two  compart- 
ments at  either  end,  furnished  with  comfortable  sleep- 
ing accommodation.  And  all  this,  the  count  seemed 
never  weary  of  repeating,  was  mine — mine  alone. 


192  THE    COUNTS   MILLIONS 

Leaning  back  on  the  velvet  cushions,  I  gazed  at  the 
changing  landscape,  as  the  train  rushed  madly  on. 
Leaning  over  me,  M.  de  Chalusse  named  all  the  towns 
and  villages  we  passed :  Brunoy,  Melun,  Fontainebleau, 
Villeneuve,  Sens,  Laroche.  And  each  time  the  train 
stopped  the  servants  came  to  ask  if  we  wished  for  any- 
thing. When  we  reached  Lyons,  in  the  middle  of  the 
night,  we  found  a  delicious  supper  awaiting  us.  It 
was  served  as  soon  as  we  alighted,  and  in  due  time  we 
were  warned  that  the  train  was  ready  to  start,  and  then 
we  resumed  our  journey.  You  can  imagine,  perhaps, 
how  marvellous  all  this  seemed  to  a  poor  little  appren- 
tice, whose  only  ambition  a  week  before  was  to  earn 
five  francs  a  day.  What  a  change  indeed !  At  last  the 
count  made  me  retire  to  one  of  the  compartments, 
where  I  soon  fell  asleep,  abandoning  my  efforts  to  dis- 
tinguish what  was  dreamlike  in  my  situation  from 
reality.  However,  when  I  woke  up  I  became  terribly 
anxious.  I  asked  myself  what  was  awaiting  me  at  the 
end  of  this  long  journey.  M.  de  Chalusse's  manner 
continued  kind,  and  even  affectionate;  but  he  had  re- 
gained his  accustomed  reserve  and  self-control,  and  I 
realized  that  it  would  be  useless  on  my  part  to  question 
him.  At  last,  after  a  thirty  hours'  journey  by  rail,  we 
again  entered  the  count's  berline,  drawn  by  post-horses, 
and  eventually  M.  de  Chalusse  said  to  me:  'Here  is 
Cannes — we  are  at  our  journey's  end.' 

"  In  this  town,  which  is  one  of  the  most  charming 
that  overlook  the  blue  waters  of  the  Mediterranean,  the 
count  owned  a  palace  embowered  among  lovely  orange- 
trees,  only  a  few  steps  from  the  sea,  and  in  full  view 
of  the  myrtle  and  laurel  groves  which  deck  the  isles  of 
Sainte  Marguerite.  He  told  me  that  he  proposed 
spending  a  few  months  here  in  seclusion,  so  as  to  give 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  193 

me  time  to  accustom  myself  to  my  new  position  and 
the  luxury  that  surrounded  me.  I  was,  indeed,  ex- 
tremely awkward,  and  my  excessive  timidity  was  in- 
creased by  my  pride.  I  did  not  know  what  to  say,  or 
what  to  do.  I  did  not  know  how  to  use  my  hands,  nor 
how  to  walk,  nor  how  to  carry  myself.  Everything  em- 
barrassed and  frightened  me;  and  I  was  conscious  of 
my  awkwardness,  without  being  able  to  remedy  it.  I 
saw  my  blunders,  and  knew  that  I  spoke  a  different 
language  to  that  which  was  spoken  around  me.  And 
yet  the  memory  of  Cannes  will  ever  be  dear  to  me. 
For  there  I  first  met  the  only  friend  I  have  now  left 
in  this  world.  I  did  not  exchange  a  word  with  him, 
but  by  the  quickened  throbbings  of  my  heart,  when 
our  eyes  met,  I  felt  that  he  would  exert  a  powerful 
influence  over  my  life,  and  events  have  since  proved 
that  I  was  not  deceived.  At  that  time,  however,  he 
was  a  stranger  to  me ;  and  nothing  on  earth  would  have 
induced  me  to  make  inquiries  concerning  him.  It  was 
only  by  chance  I  learned  that  he  lived  in  Paris,  that 
his  name  was  Pascal,  and  that  he  had  come  south  as 
a  companion  to  a  sick  friend. 

"  By  a  single  word  the  count  could  have  insured  the 
happiness  of  my  life  and  his  own,  but  he  did  not 
speak  it.  He  was  the  kindest  and  most  indulgent  of 
guardians,  and  I  was  often  affected  to  tears  by  his 
tenderness.  But,  although  my  slightest  wish  was  law, 
he  did  not  grant  me  his  confidence.  The  secret — the 
mystery  that  stood  between  us — was  like  a  wall  of 
ice.  Still,  I  was  gradually  becoming  accustomed  to  my 
new  life,  and  my  mind  was  regaining  its  equilibrium, 
when  one  evening  the  count  returned  home  more  agi- 
tated and  excited,  if  possible,  than  on  the  day  of  my 
departure  from  the  asylum.  He  summoned  his  valet, 


194  THE   COUNT'S   MILLIONS 

and,  in  a  tone  that  admitted  no  reply,  he  exclaimed,  '  I 
wish  to  leave  Cannes  at  once — I  must  start  in  less  than 
an  hour — so  procure  some  post-horses  instantly/  And 
in  answer  to  my  inquiring  glance,  he  said :  '  It  must  be. 
It  would  be  folly  to  hesitate.  Each  moment  increases 
the  peril  that  threatens  us/ 

"  I  was  very  young,  inexperienced,  and  totally  ignor- 
ant of  life;  but  my  sufferings,  my  loneliness,  and  the 
prospect  of  being  compelled  to  rely  upon  myself,  had 
imparted  to  my  mind  that  precocious  maturity  which  is 
so  often  observed  among  the  children  of  the  poor. 
Knowing  from  the  very  first  that  there  was  some  mys- 
tery connected  with  the  count's  life,  I  had  studied  him 
with  a  child's  patient  sagacity — a  sagacity  which  is  all 
the  more  dangerous,  as  it  is  unsuspected — and  I  had 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  a  constant  dread  rendered 
his  life  a  burden.  Could  it  be  for  himself  that  he 
trembled,  this  great  nobleman,  who  was  so  powerful 
by  reason  of  his  exalted  rank,  his  connections,  and  his 
wealth?  Certainly  not.  Was  it  for  me,  then?  Un- 
doubtedly it  was.  But  why?  It  had  not  taken  me 
long  to  discover  that  he  was  concealing  me,  or,  at 
least,  that  he  endeavored  by  all  means  in  his  power  to 
prevent  my  presence  in  his  house  from  being  known 
beyond  a  very  limited  circle  of  friends.  Our  hurried 
departure  from  Cannes  confirmed  me  in  my  impres- 
sion. 

"  It  might  have  been  truly  called  a  flight.  We  left 
that  same  evening  at  eleven  o'clock,  in  a  pouring  rain, 
with  the  first  horses  that  could  be  procured.  Our  only 
attendant  was  the  count's  valet — not  Casimir,  the  man 
who  insulted  me  a  little  while  ago — but  another  man, 
an  old  and  valued  servant,  who  has  since  died,  unfor- 
tunately, and  who  possessed  his  master's  entire  confi- 


THE   COUNTS   MILLIONS  195 

dence.  The  other  servants  were  dismissed  with  a 
princely  gratuity,  and  told  to  disperse  two  days  after 
our  departure.  We  did  not  return  to  Paris,  but  jour- 
neyed toward  the  Italian  frontier,  and  on  arriving  at 
Nice  in  the  dead  of  night,  we  drove  directly  to  the 
quay.  The  postilions  unharnessed  the  horses,  and  we 
remained  in  the  carriage.  The  valet,  however,  hast- 
ened off,  and  more  than  two  hours  elapsed  before  he 
returned.  He  declared  that  he  had  found  it  very 
difficult  to  procure  what  he  wished  for,  but  that  at  last, 
by  a  prodigal  outlay  of  money,  he  had  succeeded  in 
overcoming  all  obstacles.  What  M.  de  Chalusse  de- 
sired was  a  vessel  ready  for  sea,  and  the  bark  which 
the  valet  had  chartered  now  came  up  to  the  quay.  Our 
carriage  was  put  on  board,  we  went  below,  and  before 
daybreak  we  were  under  way. 

"  Three  days  later  we  were  in  Genoa,  registered 
under  a  false  name  in  a  second  class  hotel.  While  we 
were  on  the  open  sea,  the  count  had  seemed  to  be  less 
agitated,  but  now  he  was  far  from  calm,  and  the  pre- 
cautions he  took  proved  that  he  still  feared  pursuit. 
A  malefactor  flying  from  justice  could  not  have  taken 
greater  pains  to  mislead  the  detectives  on  his  track. 
And  facts  proved  conclusively  that  I  was  the  sole  cause 
of  the  count's  apprehension.  On  one  occasion  I  even 
heard  him  discussing  with  his  valet  the  feasibility  of 
clothing  me  in  masculine  attire.  And  it  was  only  the 
difficulty  of  obtaining  a  suitable  costume  that  prevented 
him  from  carrying  this  project  into  execution.  I  ought 
to  mention,  however,  that  the  servant  did  not  share 
his  master's  anxiety,  for  three  or  four  times  I  over- 
heard him  saying:  'The  count  is  too  good  to  worry 
himself  so  much  about  such  bad  stock.  Besides,  she 
won't  overtake  us.  It  isn't  certain  that  she  has  even 


196  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

followed  us.  How  can  she  know  anything  about  it?' 
She !  Who  was  she  ?  This  is  what  I  racked  my  brain 
to  discover,  but  without  success.  I  must  confess,  mon- 
sieur, that  being  of  a  practical  nature,  and  not  in  the 
least  degree  romantic,  I  arrived  at  the  conclusion  that 
the  peril  chiefly  existed  in  the  count's  imagination,  or 
that  he  greatly  exaggerated  it.  Still  he  suffered  none 
the  less  on  that  account,  as  was  shown  by  the  fact  that 
the  following  month  was  spent  in  hurried  journeys 
from  one  Italian  city  to  another. 

"  It  was  the  end  of  May  before  M.  de  Chalusse 
would  consent  to  return  to  France;  and  then  we  went 
direct  to  Lyons.  We  had  spent  a  couple  of  days  there, 
when  the  count  informed  me  that  prudence  required  us 
to  separate  for  a  time — that  our  safety  demanded  this 
sacrifice.  And  without  giving  me  time  to  say  a  word, 
he  began  to  explain  the  advantages  that  would  accrue 
from  such  an  arrangement.  I  was  extremely  ignorant, 
and  he  wished  me  to  profit  by  our  temporary  separation 
to  raise  my  knowledge  to  a  level  with  my  new  social 
position.  He  had,  accordingly,  made  arrangements  for 
me  to  enter  the  convent  of  Sainte-Marthe,  an  educa- 
tional establishment  which  is  as  celebrated  in  the  de- 
partment of  the  Rhone  as  the  Convent  des  Oiseaux  is 
in  Paris.  He  added  that  it  would  not  be  prudent  for 
him  to  visit  me;  and  he  made  me  solemnly  promise 
that  I  would  never  mention  his  name  to  any  of  my 
schoolmates.  I  was  to  send  any  letters  I  might  write 
to  an  address  which  he  would  give  me,  and  he  would 
sign  his  answers  with  a  fictitious  name.  He  also  told 
me  that  the  lady  superior  of  Sainte-Marthe  knew  his 
secret,  and  that  I  could  confide  in  her.  He  was  so  rest- 
less and  so  miserably  unhappy  on  the  day  when  he 
acquainted  me  with  these  plans,  that  I  really  believed 


THE   COUNT'S   MILLIONS  197 

him  insane.  Nevertheless,  I  replied  that  I  would  obey 
him,  and  to  tell  the  truth,  I  was  not  ill  pleased  at  the 
thought  of  the  change.  My  life  with  M.  de  Chalusse 
was  a  monotonous  and  cheerless  one.  I  was  almost 
dying  of  ennui,  for  I  had  been  accustomed  to  work, 
bustle,  and  confusion  with  the  Greloux,  and  I  felt  de- 
lighted at  the  prospect  of  finding  myself  among  com- 
panions of  my  own  age. 

"  Unfortunately,  M.  de  Chalusse  had  forgotten  one 
circumstance,  which  made  my  two  years'  sojourn  at 
Sainte-Marthe  a  lingering  and  cruel  agony.  At  first  I 
was  kindly  treated  by  my  schoolmates.  A  new  pupil  is 
always  welcome,  for  her  arrival  relieves  the  monotony 
of  convent-life.  But  it  was  not  long  before  my  com- 
panions wished  to  know  my  name;  and  I  had  none 
other  than  Marguerite  to  give  them.  They  were  aston- 
ished and  wished  to  know  who  my  parents  were.  I 
could  not  tell  an  untruth ;  and  I  was  obliged  to  confess 
that  I  knew  nothing  at  all  respecting  my  father  or  my 
mother.  After  that  ( the  bastard ' — for  such  was  the 
name  they  gave  me — was  soon  condemned  to  isolation. 
No  one  would  associate  with  me  during  play-time.  No 
one  would  sit  beside  me  in  the  school-room.  At  the 
piano  lesson,  the  girl  who  played  after  me  pretended  to 
wipe  the  keyboard  carefully  before  commencing  her  ex- 
ercises. I  struggled  bravely  against  this  unjust  ostra- 
cism ;  but  all  in  vain.  I  was  so  unlike  these  other  girls 
in  character  and  disposition,  and  I  had,  moreover,  been 
guilty  of  a  great  imprudence.  I  had  been  silly  enough 
to  show  my  companions  the  costly  jewels  which  M.  de 
Chalusse  had  given  me,  but  which  I  never  wore.  And 
on  two  occasions  I  had  proved  to  them  that  I  had  more 
•money  at  my  disposal  than  all  the  other  pupils  together. 
If  I  had  been  poor,  they  would,  perhaps,  have  treated 


198  THE   COUNT'S   MILLIONS 

me  with  affected  sympathy ;  but  as  I  was  rich,  I  became 
an  enemy.  It  was  war;  and  one  of  those  merciless 
wars  which  sometimes  rage  so  furiously  in  convents, 
despite  their  seeming  quiet. 

"  I  should  surprise  you,  monsieur,  if  I  told  you  what 
refined  torture  these  daughters  of  noblemen  invented 
to  gratify  their  petty  spite.  I  might  have  complained 
to  the  superior,  but  I  scorned  to  do  so.  I  buried  my 
sorrow  deep  in  my  heart,  as  I  had  done  years  before; 
and  I  firmly  resolved  never  to  show  ought  but  a  smil- 
ing, placid  face,  so  as  to  prove  to  my  enemies  that  they 
were  powerless  to  disturb  my  peace  of  mind.  Study 
became  my  refuge  and  consolation;  and  I  plunged  into 
work  with  the  energy  of  despair.  I  should  probably 
still  live  at  Sainte-Marthe  now,  had  it  not  been  for  a 
trivial  circumstance.  One  day  I  had  a  quarrel  with  my 
most  determined  enemy,  a  girl  named  Anais  de  Roche- 
cote.  I  was  a  thousand  times  right;  and  I  would  not 
yield.  The  superior  dared  not  tell  me  I  was  wrong. 
Anais  was  furious,  and  wrote  I  don't  know  what  false- 
hoods to  her  mother.  Madame  de  Rochecote  thereupon 
interested  the  mothers  of  five  or  six  other  pupils  in 
her  daughter's  quarrel,  and  one  evening  these  ladies 
came  in  a  body,  and  nobly  and  courageously  demanded 
that  the  '  bastard 9  should  be  expelled.  It  was  impossi- 
ble, outrageous,  monstrous,  they  declared,  that  their 
daughters  should  be  compelled  to  associate  with  a  girl 
like  me — a  nameless  girl,  who  humiliated  the  other 
girls  with  her  ill-gotten  wealth.  The  superior  tried  to 
take  my  part ;  but  these  ladies  declared  they  would  take 
their  daughters  from  the  convent  if  I  were  not  sent 
away.  There  was  no  help  for  it:  I  was  sacrificed. 
Summoned  by  telegraph,  M.  de  Chalusse  hastened 
to  Lyons,  and  two  days  later  I  left  Sainte-Marthe 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  199 

with  jeers  and  opprobrious  epithets  ringing  in  my 
ears." 

X. 

ONCE  before,  that  very  morning,  the  magistrate  had 
witnessed  a  display  of  the  virile  energy  with  which 
misfortune  and  suffering  had  endowed  this  proud  but 
naturally  timid  girl.  But  he  was  none  the  less  sur- 
prised at  the  sudden  explosion  of  hatred  which  he  now 
beheld;  for  it  was  hatred.  The  way  in  which  Mad- 
emoiselle Marguerite's  voice  had  quivered  as  she  pro- 
nounced the  name  of  Ana'is  de  Rochecote  proved, 
unmistakably,  that  hers  was  one  of  those  haughty 
natures  that  never  forget  an  insult.  All  signs  of 
fatigue  had  now  disappeared.  She  had  sprung  from 
her  chair,  and  remembrance  of  the  shameful,  cowardly 
affront  she  had  received  had  brought  a  vivid  flush  to 
her  cheeks  and  a  bright  gleam  to  her  eyes. 

"  This  atrocious  humiliation  happened  scarcely  a 
year  ago,  monsieur,"  she  resumed ;  "  and  there  is  but 
little  left  for  me  to  tell  you.  My  expulsion  from 
Sainte-Marthe  made  M.  de  Chalusse  frantic  with  indig- 
nation. He  knew  something  that  I  was  ignorant  of — 
that  Madame  de  Rochecote,  who  enacted  the  part  of  a 
severe  and  implacable  censor,  was  famed  for  the  laxity 
of  her  morals.  The  count's  first  impulse  was  to  wreak 
vengeance  on  my  persecutors ;  for,  in  spite  of  his  usual 
coolness,  M.  de  Chalusse  had  a  furious  temper  at  times. 
It  was  only  with  the  greatest  difficulty  that  I  dissuaded 
him  from  challenging  General  de  Rochecote,  who  was 
living  at  the  time.  However,  it  now  became  necessary 
to  make  some  other  arrangements  for  me.  M.  de  Cha- 
lusse offered  to  find  another  school,  promising  to  take 


200  THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS 

such  precautions  as  would  insure  my  peace  of  mind. 
But  I  interrupted  him  before  he  had  spoken  a  dozen 
words,  declaring  I  would  rather  return  to  the  book- 
binders than  chance  another  such  experiment.  And 
what  I  said  I  meant.  A  subterfuge — a  fictitious  name, 
for  instance — could  alone  shield  me  from  persecution 
similar  to  what  I  had  endured  at  Sainte-Marthe.  But 
I  knew  that  I  was  incapable  of  playing  such  a  part — 
I  felt  that  I  should  somehow  confess  everything.  My 
firmness  imparted  some  resolution  to  M.  de  Chalusse. 
He  exclaimed,  with  an  oath,  that  I  was  right — that  he 
was  weary  of  all  this  deception  and  concealment,  and 
that  he  would  make  arrangements  to  have  me  near  him. 
'  Yes/  he  concluded,  embracing  me,  '  the  die  is  cast, 
come  what  may ! ' 

"  However,  these  measures  required  a  certain  delay ; 
and,  in  the  meantime,  he  decided  to  install  me  in  Paris, 
which  is  the  only  place  where  one  can  successfully  hide 
from  prying  eyes.  He  purchased  a  small  but  conven- 
ient house,  surrounded  by  a  garden,  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  the  Luxembourg  Palace,  and  here  he  installed 
me,  with  two  old  women  and  a  trusty  man-servant.  As 
I  needed  a  chaperon,  he  went  in  quest  of  one,  and  found 
Madame  Leon." 

On  hearing  this  name,  the  magistrate  gave  the  young 
girl  a  searching  look,  as  if  he  hoped  to  discover  what 
estimate  she  had  formed  of  the  housekeeper's  charac- 
ter, as  well  as  what  degree  of  confidence  she  had 
granted  her.  But  Mademoiselle  Marguerite's  face  re- 
mained unaltered  in  expression. 

"  After  so  many  trials,"  she  resumed,  "  I  thought  I 
should  now  find  rest  and  peace.  Yes,  I  believed  so; 
and  the  few  months  I  spent  in  that  quiet  house  will  be 
the  happiest  of  my  life — I  am  sure  of  it.  Judge  of 


THE   COUNT'S   MILLIONS  201 

my  surprise  when,  on  going  down  into  the  little  garden 
on  the  second  day  after  my  arrival,,  I  saw  the  young 
man  whom  I  had  met  at  Cannes,  and  whose  face  had 
lingered  in  my  memory  for  more  than  two  years  as  the 
type  of  all  that  was  best  and  noblest  in  the  human 
countenance.  He  was  standing  near  the  gate.  A  cloud 
passed  before  my  eyes.  What  mysterious  freak  of  fate 
had  caused  him  to  pause  there  at  that  particular  mo- 
ment? This  much  is  certain,  he  recognized  me  as  I 
had  recognized  him.  He  bowed,  smiling  somewhat, 
and  I  fled  indoors  again,  indignant  with  myself  for  not 
being  angry  at  his  audacity.  I  made  many  plans  that 
day,  but  the  next  morning,  at  the  same  hour,  I  hid 
myself  behind  a  Venetian  blind,  and  saw  him  pause 
at  the  gate,  and  gaze  at  the  garden  with  evident 
anxiety.  I  soon  learned  that  he  lived  near  by,  with  his 
widowed  mother;  and  twice  a  day,  when  he  went  to 
the  Palais  de  Justice  and  returned,  he  passed  my 
home/' 

Her  cheeks  were  crimson  now,  her  eyes  were  low- 
ered, and  she  was  evidently  embarrassed.  But  sud- 
denly, as  if  ashamed  of  her  blushes,  she  proudly  raised 
her  head,  and  said,  in  a  firmer  voice :  "  Shall  I  tell  you 
our  simple  story?  Is  it  necessary?  I  should  not  have 
concealed  anything  that  has  passed  from  my  mother,  if 
I  had  been  so  happy  as  to  possess  a  mother.  A  few 
moments5  conversation  now  and  then,  the  exchange  of 
a  few  letters,  the  pressure  of  a  hand  through  the  gar- 
den gate,  and  that  is  all.  Still,  I  have  been  guilty  of  a 
grave  and  irreparable  fault:  I  have  disobeyed  the  one 
rule  of  my  life — frankness;  and  I  am  cruelly  punished 
for  doing  so.  I  did  not  tell  all  this  to  M.  de  Chalusse 
— in  fact,  I  dared  not.  I  was  ashamed  of  my  cow- 
ardice; from  day  to  day  I  vowed  that  I  would  confess 


202  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

everything,  and  yet  I  procrastinated.  I  said  to  myself 
every  night,  ( It  shall  be  done  to-morrow ;  *  but  when 
the  morrow  came  I  said,  '  I  will  give  myself  another 
day — just  one  more  day/  Indeed,  my  courage  failed 
me  when  I  thought  of  the  count's  aristocratic  preju- 
dices; and  besides,  I  knew  how  ambitious  he  was  for 
my  future.  On  the  other  hand,  moreover,  Pascal  was 
always  pleading :  '  Don't  speak  now.  My  circum- 
stances are  constantly  improving.  The  day  is  not  far 
off  when  I  shall  be  able  to  offer  you  wealth  and  fame. 
When  that  day  comes  I  will  go  to  your  guardian  and 
ask  him  for  your  hand;  but  in  Heaven's  name  don't 
speak  now/  I  understood  Pascal's  motives  well 
enough.  The  count's  immense  fortune  frightened  him, 
and  he  feared  that  he  would  be  accused  of  being  a 
fortune-hunter.  So  I  waited,  with  that  secret  anguish 
which  still  haunts  those  who  have  been  unhappy  even 
when  their  present  is  peaceful,  and  their  future  seems 
bright.  I  kept  my  secret,  saying  to  myself  that  such 
happiness  was  not  meant  for  me,  that  it  would  soon 
take  flight. 

"  It  took  flight  all  too  soon.  One  morning  I  heard 
a  carriage  draw  up  outside  our  door,  and  the  next 
moment  the  Count  de  Chalusse  entered  the  sitting-room. 
'  Everything  is  ready  to  receive  you  at  the  Hotel  de 
Chalusse,  Marguerite,'  said  he,  '  come ! '  He  cere- 
moniously offered  me  his  arm,  and  I  accompanied  him. 
I  could  not  even  leave  a  message  for  Pascal,  for  I  had 
never  made  a  confidante  of  Madame  Leon.  Still,  a 
faint  hope  sustained  me.  I  thought  that  the  precautions 
taken  by  M.  de  Chalusse  would  somewhat  dispel  the 
uncertainty  of  my  position,  and  furnish  me  at  least 
with  some  idea  of  the  vague  danger  which  threatened 
me.  But  no.  His  efforts,  so  far  as  I  could  discover, 


THE   COUNT'S   MILLIONS  203 

had  been  confined  to  changing  his  servants.  Our  life 
in  this  grand  house  was  the  same  as  it  had  been  at 
Cannes — even  more  secluded,  if  that  were  possible. 
The  count  had  aged  considerably.  It  was  evident  that 
he  was  sinking  beneath  the  burden  of  some  ever-present 
sorrow.  '  I  am  condemning  you  to  a  cheerless  and 
melancholy  youth/  he  sometimes  said  to  me,  'but  it 
will  not  last  forever — patience,  patience ! '  Did  he 
really  love  me?  I  think  so.  But  his  affection  showed 
itself  in  a  strange  manner.  Sometimes  his  voice  was 
so  tender  that  my  heart  was  touched.  At  others  there 
was  a  look  of  hatred  in  his  eyes  which  terrified  me. 
Occasionally  he  was  severe  almost  to  brutality,  and 
then  the  next  moment  he  would  implore  me  to  forgive 
him,  order  the  carriage,  take  me  with  him  to  his  jew- 
ellers', and  insist  upon  me  accepting  some  costly  orna- 
ments. Madame  Leon  declares  that  my  jewels  are 
worth  more  than  twenty  thousand  francs.  At  times  I 
wondered  if  his  capricious  affection  and  sternness  were 
really  intended  for  myself.  It  often  seemed  to  me  that 
I  was  only  a  shadow — the  phantom  of  some  absent  per- 
son, in  his  eyes.  It  is  certain  that  he  often  requested 
me  to  dress  myself  or  to  arrange  my  hair  in  a  certain 
fashion,  to  wear  such  and  such  a  color,  or  to  use  a 
particular  perfume  which  he  gave  me.  Frequently, 
when  I  was  moving  about  the  house,  he  suddenly  ex- 
claimed :  '  Marguerite !  I  entreat  you,  remain  just  where 
you  are ! 5 

"  I  obeyed  him,  but  the  illusion  had  already  vanished. 
A  sob  or  an  oath  would  come  from  his  lips,  and  then 
in  an  angry  voice  he  would  bid  me  leave  the  room." 

The  magistrate  did  not  raise  his  eyes  from  his  talis- 
manic  ring;  it  might  have  been  supposed  that  it  had 
fascinated  him.  Still,  his  expression  denoted  profound 


204  THE   COUNTS    MILLIONS 

commiseration,  and  he  shook  his  head  thoughtfully. 
The  idea  had  occurred  to  him  that  this  unfortunate 
young  girl  had  been  the  victim,  not  precisely  of  a  mad- 
man, but  of  one  of  those  maniacs  who  have  just  enough 
reason  left  to  invent  the  tortures  they  inflict  upon  those 
around  them. 

Speaking  more  slowly  than  before,  as  if  she  were 
desirous  of  attracting  increased  attention  on  the  magis- 
trate's part,  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  now  continued: 
"If  I  reminded  M.  de  Chalusse  of  a  person  whom  he 
had  formerly  loved,  that  person  may  have  been  my 
mother.  I  say,  may  have  been,  because  I  am  not  cer- 
tain of  it.  All  my  efforts  to  discover  the  truth  were 
unavailing.  M.  de  Chalusse  seemed  to  take  a  malicious 
pleasure  in  destroying  all  my  carefully-arranged  the- 
ories, and  in  upsetting  the  conjectures  which  he  had 
encouraged  himself  only  twenty-four  hours  previously. 
Heaven  only  knows  how  anxiously  I  listened  to  his 
slightest  word !  And  it  can  be  easily  understood  why  I 
did  so.  My  strange  and  compromising  connection  with 
him  drove  me  nearly  frantic.  It  was  not  strange  that 
people's  suspicions  were  aroused.  True,  he  had  changed 
all  his  servants  before  my  arrival  here;  but  he  had 
requested  Madame  Leon  to  remain  with  me,  and  who 
can  tell  what  reports  she  may  have  circulated?  It  has 
often  happened  that  when  returning  from  mass  on 
Sundays,  I  have  overheard  persons  say,  '  Look !  there 
is  the  Count  de  Chalusse's  mistress  ! '  Oh !  not  a  single 
humiliation  has  been  spared  me — not  a  single  one! 
However,  on  one  point  I  did  not  feel  the  shadow  of  a 
doubt.  The  count  had  known  my  mother.  He  fre- 
quently alluded  to  her,  sometimes  with  an  outburst  of 
passion  which  made  me  think  that  he  had  once  adored, 
and  still  loved  her;  sometimes,  with  insults  and  curses 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  205 

which  impressed  me  with  the  idea  that  she  had  cruelly 
injured  him.  But  most  frequently  he  reproached  her 
for  having  unhesitatingly  sacrificed  me  to  insure  her 
own  safety.  He  said  she  could  have  had  no  heart ;  and 
that  it  was  an  unheard  of,  incomprehensible,  and  mon- 
strous thing  that  a  woman  could  enjoy  luxury  and 
wealth,  undisturbed  by  remorse,  knowing  that  her  inno- 
cent and  defenceless  child  was  exposed  all  the  while 
to  the  hardships  and  temptations  of  abject  poverty.  I 
was  also  certain  that  my  mother  was  a  married  woman, 
for  M.  de  Chalusse  alluded  to  her  husband  more  than 
once.  He  hated  him  with  a  terrible  hatred.  One 
evening,  when  he  was  more  communicative  than  usual, 
he  gave  me  to  understand  that  the  great  danger  he 
dreaded  for  me  came  either  from  my  mother  or  her 
husband.  He  afterward  did  his  best  to  counteract  this 
impression;  but  he  did  not  succeed  in  convincing  me 
that  his  previous  assertion  was  untrue." 

The  magistrate  looked  searchingly  at  Mademoiselle 
Marguerite.  "  Then  those  letters  which  we  found  just 
now  in  the  escritoire  are  from  your  mother,  mademoi- 
selle ?  "  he  remarked. 

The  girl  blushed.  She  had  previously  been  ques- 
tioned respecting  these  letters,  and  she  had  then  made 
no  reply.  Now,  she  hesitated  for  a  moment,  and  then 
quietly  said :  "  Your  opinion  coincides  with  mine,  mon- 
sieur." 

Thereupon,  as  if  she  wished  to  avoid  any  further 
questioning  on  the  subject,  she  hurriedly  continued: 
"  At  last  a  new  and  even  greater  trouble  came — a  posi- 
tive calamity,  which  made  me  forget  the  disgrace  at- 
tached to  my  birth.  One  morning  at  breakfast,  about  a 
month  ago,  the  count  informed  me  that  he  expected 
two  guests  to  dinner  that  evening.  This  was  such  an 


206  THE   COUNTS   MILLIONS 

unusual  occurrence  that  I  was  struck  speechless  with 
astonishment.  '  It  is  extraordinary,  I  admit/  he  added, 
gayly;  'but  it  is  nevertheless  true.  M.  de  Fondege 
and  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay  will  dine  here  this  even- 
ing. So,  my  dear  Marguerite,  look  your  prettiest  in 
honor  of  our  old  friend/  At  six  o'clock  the  two  gen- 
tlemen arrived  together.  I  was  well  acquainted  with 
M.  de  Fondege — the  general,  as  he  was  commonly 
called.  He  was  the  count's  only  intimate  friend,  and 
often  visited  us.  But  I  had  never  before  seen  the 
Marquis  de  Valorsay,  nor  had  I  ever  heard  his  name 
until  M.  de  Chalusse  mentioned  it  that  morning.  I 
don't  pretend  to  judge  him.  I  will  only  say  that  as 
soon  as  I  saw  him,  the  dislike  I  felt  for  him  bordered 
on  aversion.  My  false  position  rendered  his  close 
scrutiny  actually  painful  to  me,  and  his  attentions  and 
compliments  pleased  me  no  better.  At  dinner  he  ad- 
dressed his  conversation  exclusively  to  me,  and  I  par- 
ticularly remember  a  certain  picture  he  drew  of  a 
model  household,  which  positively  disgusted  me.  In 
his  opinion,  a  husband  ought  to  content  himself  with 
being  his  wife's  prime  minister — the  slave  of  her 
slightest  caprice.  He  intended,  if  he  married,  to  allow 
the  Marquise  de  Valorsay  perfect  freedom,  with  an 
unlimited  amount  of  money,  the  handsomest  carriages, 
and  the  most  magnificent  diamonds  in  Paris — every- 
thing, indeed,  that  could  gratify  her  vanity,  and  render 
her  existence  a  fairylike  dream.  '  With  such  ideas 
on  her  husband's  part  the  marchioness  will  be  very  diffi- 
cult to  please  if  she  is  not  contented  with  her  lot,'  he 
added,  glancing  covertly  at  me.  This  exasperated  me 
beyond  endurance,  and  I  dryly  replied :  '  The  mere 
thought  of  such  a  husband  would  drive  me  to  the 
shelter  of  a  convent/  He  seemed  considerably  discon- 


THE  COUNTS   MILLIONS 

certed :  and  I  noticed  that  the  general*  I  mean  M*  <de 
Fondege*  gave  him  a  mischievous  look, 

"  However,  when  the  gentlemen  had  gone*  M,  de 
Chalusse  scolded  me  severely.  He  said  that  my  senti- 
mental philosophy  was  quite  out  of  place  in  a  drawing- 
room,  and  that  my  ideas  of  life,,  marriage*  and  duty 
could  only  have  been  gained  in  a  foundling  asylum.. 
As  I  attempted  to  reply*  lie  interrupted  me  to  sound 
the  praises  of  the  Marquis  de  Vatarsay*  who  not  only 
came  of  an  ancient  family*  and  possessed  immense,  un- 
encumbered estates*  but  was  a  talented,  handsome  man 
into  the  bargain ;  in  short*  one  of  tltose  favored  mortals 
whom  all  young  girls  sigh  for,  The  scales  fell  from 
my  eyes,  I  instantly  understood  that  M,  de  Chalusse 
tad  selected  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay  to  be  my  hus* 
band*  and  thus  the  marquis  had  designedly  explained 
his  matrimonial  programme  for  my  benefit.  It  was  a 
snare  to  catch  the  bird,  1  felt  indignant  tltat  he  should 
suppose  me  so  wanting  in  delicacy  of  feeling  and  nobil- 
ity of  character  as  to  be  daggled  by  the  life  of  display 
and  facite  pleasure  which  he  had  depicted.  I  had  dis- 
liked him  at  first  and  now  I  despised  him :  for  it  was 
impossible  to  misunderstand  the  shameless  proposal 
concealed  beneath  his  half-testing  words.  He  offered 
me  my  liberty  in  exchange  for  my  fortune*  Tltat  is 
only  a  fair  contract  one  might  say,  Perhaps  sot  but 
if  he  were  willing  to  do  this  for  a  certain  amount  of 
money*  what  would  he  not  do  for  a  sum  twice  or  thrice 
as  large?  Such  wiere  my  impressions*  though  t  asked 
myself  again  and  again  if  t  were  not  mistaken,  Ko$ 
tlte  events  that  followed  only  confirmed  my  suspicions 
Three  days  later  the  marquis  came  again,  His  visit 
was  to  the  count*  and  tliey  held  a  long  conference  in 
this  study*  Having  occasion  to  enter  the  room,,  after 


208  THE   COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

the  marquis's  departure,  I  noticed  on  the  table  a  num- 
ber of  title  deeds  which  he  had  probably  brought  for 
the  count's  inspection.  On  the  following  week  there 
was  another  conference,  and  this  time  a  lawyer  was 
present.  Any  further  doubts  I  might  have  felt  were 
dispelled  by  Madame  Leon,  who  was  always  well  in- 
formed— thanks  to  her  habit  of  listening  at  the  key- 
holes. '  They  are  talking  of  marrying  you  to  the  Mar- 
quis de  Valorsay — I  heard  them/  she  remarked  to  me. 

"  However,  the  information  did  not  terrify  me.  I 
had  profited  by  the  time  allowed  me  for  reflection,  and 
I  had  decided  upon  the  course  I  should  pursue.  I  am 
timid,  but  I  am  not  weak;  and  I  was  determined  to 
resist  M.  de  Chalusse's  will  in  this  matter,  even  if  it 
became  necessary  for  me  to  leave  his  house,  and  re- 
nounce all  hopes  of  the  wealth  he  had  promised  me. 
Still  I  said  nothing  to  Pascal  of  my  mental  struggle 
and  final  determination.  I  did  not  wish  to  bind  him  by 
the  advice  which  he  would  certainly  have  given  me.  I 
had  his  troth,  and  that  sufficed.  And  it  was  with  a 
thrill  of  joy  that  I  said  to  myself :  f  What  does  it  mat- 
ter if  M.  de  Chalusse  should  be  so  angered  by  my  re- 
fusal to  obey  him  as  to  drive  me  from  his  house?  It 
will  rather  be  so  much  the  better;  Pascal  will  protect 
me/ 

"  But  resistance  is  only  possible  when  you  are  at- 
tacked ;  and  M.  de  Chalusse  did  not  even  allude  to  the 
subject — perhaps  because  affairs  had  not  yet  been  sat- 
isfactorily arranged  between  the  marquis  and  himself — • 
possibly  because  he  wished  to  deprive  me  of  the  power 
to  oppose  him  by  taking  me  unawares.  It  would  have 
been  great  imprudence  on  my  part  to  broach  the  sub- 
ject myself,  and  so  I  waited  calmly  and  resignedly, 
storing  up  all  my  energy  for  the  decisive  hour.  I 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  209 

willingly  confess  that  I  am  not  a  heroine  of  romance — 
I  do  not  look  upon  money  with  the  contempt  it  de- 
serves. I  was  resolved  to  wed  solely  in  accordance 
with  the  dictates  of  my  heart ;  but  I  wished,  and  hoped, 
that  M.  de  Chalusse  would  give  me,  not  a  fortune,  but 
a  modest  dowry.  He  had  become  more  communica- 
tive than  usual  on  money  matters,  and  took  no  pains  to 
conceal  the  fact  that  he  was  engaged  in  raising  the 
largest  possible  amount  of  ready  cash.  He  received 
frequent  visits  from  his  stockbroker,  and  sometimes 
when  the  latter  had  left  him,  he  showed  me  rolls  of 
bank-notes  and  packages  of  bonds,  saying,  as  he  did 
so:  'You  see  that  your  future  is  assured,  my  dear 
Marguerite.' 

"  I  am  only  doing  the  count  justice  when  I  say  that 
my  future  was  a  subject  of  constant  anxiety  to  him 
during  the  last  few  months  of  his  life.  Less  than  a 
fortnight  after  he  had  taken  me  from  the  asylum,  he 
drew  up  a  will,  in  which  he  adopted  me  and  made  me 
his  sole  legatee.  But  he  afterward  destroyed  this  docu- 
ment on  the  plea  that  it  did  not  afford  me  sufficient 
security;  and  a  dozen  others  shared  the  same  fate. 
For  his  mind  was  constantly  occupied  with  the  sub- 
ject, and  he  seemed  to  have  a  presentiment  that  his 
death  would  be  a  sudden  one.  I  am  forced  to  admit 
that  he  seemed  less  anxious  to  endow  me  with  his  for- 
tune than  to  frustrate  the  hopes  of  some  persons  I  did 
not  know.  When  he  burned  his  last  will  in  my  pres- 
ence, he  remarked:  'This  document  is  useless:  they 
would  contest  it,  and  probably  succeed  in  having  it 
set  aside.  I  have  thought  of  a  better  way;  I  have 
found  an  expedient  which  will  provide  for  all  emer- 
gencies.' And  as  I  ventured  some  timid  objection — for 
it  was  repugnant  to  my  sense  of  honor  to  act  as  an 


210  THE    COUNT'S   MILLIONS 

instrument  of  vengeance  or  injustice,  or  assist,  even 
passively,  in  despoiling  any  person  of  his  rightful  in- 
heritance— he  harshly,  almost  brutally,  replied  :  '  Mind 
your  own  business!  I  will  disappoint  the  folks  who 
are  waiting  for  my  property  as  they  deserve  to  be  dis- 
appointed. They  covet  my  estates  do  they!  Very 
well,  they  shall  have  them.  I  will  leave  them  my  prop- 
erty, but  they  shall  find  it  mortgaged  to  its  full  value/ 

"Unfortunate  man!  all  his  plans  have  failed.  The 
heirs  whom  he  hated  so  bitterly,  and  whom  I  don't 
even  know,  whose  existence  people  have  not  even  sus- 
pected, can  now  come,  and  they  will  find  the  wealth  he 
was  determined  to  deprive  them  of  intact.  He  dreamed 
of  a  brilliant  destiny  for  me — a  proud  name,  and  the 
rank  of  a  marchioness — and  he  has  not  even  succeeded 
in  protecting  me  from  the  most  shameful  insults.  I 
have  been  accused  of  theft  before  his  body  was  even 
cold.  He  wished  to  make  me  rich,  frightfully  rich,  and 
he  has  not  left  me  enough  to  buy  my  bread — literally, 
not  enough  to  buy  bread.  He  was  in  constant  terror 
concerning  my  safety,  and  he  died  without  even  telling 
me  what  were  the  mysterious  dangers  which  threatened 
me;  without  even  telling  me  something  which  I  am 
morally  certain  of — that  he  was  my  father.  He  raised 
me  against  my  will  to  the  highest  social  position — he 
placed  that  wonderful  talisman,  gold,  in  my  hand;  he 
showed  me  the  world  at  my  feet;  and  suddenly  he  al- 
lowed me  to  fall  even  to  lower  depths  of  misery  than 
those  in 'which  he  found  me.  Ah!  M.  de  Chalusse,  it 
would  have  been  far  better  for  me  if  you  had  left  me 
in  the  foundling  asylum  to  have  earned  my  own  bread. 
And  yet,  I  freely  forgive  you." 

Mademoiselle  Marguerite  reflected  for  a  moment, 
questioning  her  memory  to  ascertain  if  she  had  told 


THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS  211 

everything — if  she  had  forgotten  any  particulars  of 
importance.  And  as  it  seemed  to  her  that  she  had 
nothing  more  to  add,  she  approached  the  magistrate, 
and,  with  impressive  solemnity  of  tone  and  manner, 
exclaimed:  "My  life  up  to  the  present  hour  is  now 
as  well  known  to  you  as  it  is  to  myself.  You  know 
what  even  the  friend,  who  is  my  only  hope,  does  not 
know  as  yet.  And  now,  when  I  tell  him  what  I  really 
am,  will  he  think  me  unworthy  of  him  ?  " 

The  magistrate  sprang  to  his  feet,  impelled  by  an 
irresistible  force.  Two  big  tears,  the  first  he  had  shed 
for  years,  trembled  on  his  eyelashes,  and  coursed  down 
his  furrowed  cheeks.  "You  are  a  noble  creature,  my 
child,"  he  replied,  in  a  voice  faltering  with  emotion; 
"and  if  I  had  a  son,  I  should  deem  myself  fortunate 
if  he  chose  a  wife  like  you." 

She  clasped  her  hands,  with  a  gesture  of  intense  joy 
and  relief,  and  then  sank  into  an  arm-chair,  murmur- 
ing :  "  Oh,  thanks,  monsieur,  thanks !  "  For  she  was 
thinking  of  Pascal ;  and  she  had  feared  he  might  shrink 
from  her  when  she  fully  revealed  to  him  her  wretched, 
sorrowful  past,  of  which  he  was  entirely  ignorant.  But 
the  magistrate's  words  had  reassured  her. 


XL 


THE  clock  on  the  mantel-shelf  struck  half-past  four. 
The  magistrate  and  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  could 
hear  stealthy  footsteps  in  the  hall,  and  a  rustling  near 
the  door.  The  servants  were  prowling  round  about  the 
study,  wondering  what  was  the  reason  of  this  prolonged 
conference.  "  I  must  see  how  the  clerk  is  progressing 
with  the  inventory,"  said  the  magistrate.  "Excuse 


212  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

me  if  I  absent  myself  for  a  moment;  I  will  soon  re- 
turn."   And  so  saying  he  rose  and  left  the  room. 

But  it  was  only  a  pretext.  He  really  wished  to  con- 
ceal his  emotion  and  regain  his  composure,  for  he  had 
been  deeply  affected  by  the  young  girl's  narrative.  He 
also  needed  time  for  reflection,  for  the  situation  had 
become  extremely  complicated  since  Mademoiselle 
Marguerite  had  informed  him  of  the  existence  of  heirs 
— of  those  mysterious  enemies  who  had  poisoned  the 
count's  peace.  These  persons  would,  of  course,  require 
to  know  what  had  become  of  the  millions  deposited  in 
the  escritoire,  and  who  would  be  held  accountable  for 
the  missing  treasure?  Mademoiselle  Marguerite,  un- 
questionably. Such  were  the  thoughts  that  flitted 
through  the  magistrate's  mind  as  he  listened  to  his 
clerk's  report.  Nor  was  this  all;  for  having  solicited 
Mademoiselle  Marguerite's  confidence,  he  must  now 
advise  her.  And  this  was  a  matter  of  some  difficulty. 

However,  when  he  returned  to  the  study  he  was 
quite  self-possessed  and  impassive  again,  and  he  was 
pleased  to  see  that  on  her  side  the  unfortunate  girl  had, 
to  some  extent,  at  least,  recovered  her  wonted  com- 
posure. "  Let  us  now  discuss  the  situation  calmly,"  he 
began.  "  I  shall  convince  you  that  your  prospects  are 
not  so  frightful  as  you  imagine.  But  before  speaking 
of  the  future,  will  you  allow  me  to  refer  to  the  past  ?  " 
The  girl  bowed  her  consent.  "  Let  us  first  of  all  con- 
sider the  subject  of  the  missing  millions.  They  were 
certainly  in  the  escritoire  when  M.  de  Chalusse  replaced 
the  vial ;  but  now  they  are  not  to  be  found,  so  that  the 
count  must  have  taken  them  away  with  him." 
"  That  thought  occurred  to  me  also." 
"Did  the  treasure  form  a  large  package?" 
"  Yes,  it  was  large ;  but  it  could  have  been  easily 


T-HE   COUNTS   MILLIONS  213 

concealed   under   the   cloak   which    M.    de    Chalusse 
wore." 

"  Very  good !  What  was  the  time  when  he  left  the 
house?" 

"  About  five  o'clock/' 

"When  was  he  brought  back?" 

"At  about  half-past  six." 

"  Where  did  the  cabman  pick  him  up  ?  " 

"  Near  the  church  of  Notre  Dame  de  Lorette,  so  he 
told  me." 

"  Do  you  know  the  driver's  number  ?  " 
'  Casimir  asked  him  for  it,  I  believe." 

Had  any  one  inquired  the  reason  of  this  semi-official 
examination,,  the  magistrate  would  have  replied  that 
Mademoiselle  Marguerite's  interests  alone  influenced 
him  in  the  course  he  was  taking.  This  was  quite  true ; 
and  yet,  without  being  altogether  conscious  of  the  fact, 
he  was  also  impelled  by  another  motive.  This  affair 
interested,  almost  fascinated,  him  on  account  of  its 
mysterious  surroundings,  and  influenced  by  the  desire 
for  arriving  at  the  truth  which  is  inherent  in  every 
human  heart,,  he  was  anxious  to  solve  the  riddle.  After 
a  few  moments'  thoughtful  silence,  he  remarked :  "  So 
the  point  of  departure  in  our  investigation,  if  there  is 
an  investigation,  will  be  this :  M.  de  Chalusse  left  the 
house  with  two  millions  in  his  possession;  and  while 
he  was  absent,  he  either  disposed  of  that  enormous  sum 
— or  else  it  was  stolen  from  him." 

Mademoiselle  Marguerite  shuddered.  "  Oh !  stolen," 
she  faltered. 

"  Yes,  my  child — anything  is  possible.  We  must 
consider  the  situation  in  every  possible  light.  But  to 
continue.  Where  was  M.  de  Chalusse  going?" 

"  To  the  house  of  a    gentleman    who    would,  he 


214  THE   COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

thought,  be  able  to  furnish  the  address  given  in  the 
letter  he  had  torn  up/' 

"  What  was  this  gentleman's  name  ?  " 

"  Fortunat." 

The  magistrate  wrote  the  name  down  on  his  tablets, 
and  then,  resuming  his  examination,  he  said :  "  Now, 
in  reference  to  this  unfortunate  letter  which,  in  your 
opinion,  was  the  cause  of  the  count's  death,  what  did 
it  say?" 

"  I  don't  know,  monsieur.  It  is  true  that  I  helped 
the  count  in  collecting  the  fragments,  but  I  did  not 
read  what  was  written  on  them." 

"That  is  of  little  account.  The  main  thing  is  to 
ascertain  who  wrote  the  letter.  You  told  me  that  it 
could  only  have  come  from  the  sister  who  disappeared 
thirty  years  ago,  or  else  from  your  mother." 

"That  was,  and  still  is,  my  opinion." 

The  magistrate  toyed  with  his  ring;  and  a  smile  of 
satisfaction  stole  over  his  face.  "  Very  well !  "  he  ex- 
claimed, "  in  less  than  five  minutes  I  shall  be  able  to 
tell  you  whether  the  letter  was  from  your  mother  or 
not.  My  method  is  perfectly  simple.  I  have  only  to 
compare  the  handwriting  with  that  of  the  letters  found 
in  the  escritoire." 

Mademoiselle  Marguerite  sprang  up,  exclaiming: 
"  What  a  happy  idea !  " 

But  without  seeming  to  notice  the  girl's  surprise,  he 
added:  "Where  are  the  remnants  of  this  letter  which 
you  and  the  count  picked  up  in  the  garden  ?  " 

"  M.  de  Chalusse  placed  them  in  his  pocket." 

"  They  must  be  found.  Tell  the  count's  valet  to  look 
for  them." 

The  girl  rang;  but  M.  Casimir,  who  was  supposed 
to  be  engaged  in  making  preparations  for  the  funeral, 


THE   COUNTS   MILLIONS  215 

was  not  in  the  house.  However,  another  servant  and 
Madame  Leon  offered  their  services,  and  certainly  dis- 
played the  most  laudable  zeal,  but  their  search  was 
fruitless ;  the  fragments  of  the  letter  could  not  be  found. 
"  How  unfortunate ! "  muttered  the  magistrate,  as  he 
watched  them  turn  the  pockets  of  the  count's  clothes 
inside  out.  "  What  a  fatality !  That  letter  would  prob- 
ably have  solved  the  mystery." 

Compelled  to  submit  to  this  disappointment,  he  re- 
turned to  the  study;  but  he  was  evidently  discouraged. 
Although  he  did  not  consider  the  mystery  insoluble,  far 
from  it,  he  realized  that  time  and  research  would  be 
required  to  arrive  at  a  solution,  and  that  the  affair  was 
quite  beyond  his  province.  One  hope  alone  remained. 

By  carefully  studying  the  last  words  which  M.  de 
Chalusse  had  written  and  spoken  he  might  arrive  at  the 
intention  which  had  dictated  them.  Experience  had 
wonderfully  sharpened  his  penetration,  and  perhaps  he 
might  discover  a  hidden  meaning  which  would  throw 
light  upon  all  this  doubt  and  uncertainty.  Accordingly, 
he  asked  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  for  the  paper  upon 
which  the  count  had  endeavored  to  pen  his  last  wishes ; 
and  in  addition  he  requested  her  to  write  on  a  card  the 
dying  man's  last  words  in  the  order  they  had  been 
uttered.  But  on  combining  the  written  and  the  spoken 
words  the  only  result  obtained  was  as  follows : — "  My 
entire  fortune — give — friends — against — Marguerite — • 
despoiled — your  mother — take  care."  These  twelve  in- 
coherent words  revealed  the  count's  absorbing  and 
poignant  anxiety  concerning  his  fortune  and  Margue- 
rite's future,  and  also  the  fear  and  aversion  with  which 
Marguerite's  mother  inspired  him.  But  that  was  all; 
the  sense  was  not  precise  enough  for  any  practical  pur- 
pose. Certainly  the  word  "  give  "  needed  no  explana- 


216  THE   COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

tion.  It  was  plain  that  the  count  had  endeavored  to 
write,  "  I  give  my  entire  fortune."  The  meaning  of 
the  word  "  despoiled  "  was  also  clear.  It  had  evidently 
been  wrung  from  the  half-unconscious  man  by  the  hor- 
rible thought  that  Marguerite — his  own  daughter,  un- 
questionably— would  not  have  a  penny  of  all  the  mil- 
lions he  had  intended  for  her.  "Take  care"  also  ex- 
plained itself.  But  there  were  two  words  which  seemed 
absolutely  incomprehensible  to  the  magistrate,  and 
which  he  vainly  strove  to  connect  with  the  others  in  an 
intelligible  manner.  These  were  the  words  "  friends  " 
and  "  against,"  and  they  were  the  most  legibly  written 
of  all.  For  the  thirtieth  time  the  magistrate  was  repeat- 
ing them  in  an  undertone,  when  a  rap  came  at  the 
door,  and  almost  immediately  Madame  Leon  entered 
the  room. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  inquired  Mademoiselle  Marguerite. 

Laying  a  package  of  letters,  addressed  to  ~h/£»  de  Cha- 
lusse,  on  the  desk,  the  housekeeper  replied:  " These 
have  just  come  by  the  post  for  the  poor  count.  Heaven 
rest  his  soul ! "  And  then  handing  a  newspaper  to 
Mademoiselle  Marguerite,  she  added,  in  an  unctuous 
tone :  "  And  some  one  left  this  paper  for  mademoiselle 
at  the  same  time." 

"  This  paper — for  me  ?    You  must  be  mistaken." 

ee  Not  at  all.  I  was  in  the  concierge's  lodge  when 
the  messenger  brought  it;  and  he  said  it  was  for 
Mademoiselle  Marguerite,  from  one  of  her  friends." 
And  with  these  words  she  made  one  of  her  very  best 
courtesies,  and  withdrew. 

The  girl  had  taken  the  newspaper,  and  now,  with 
an  air  of  astonishment  and  apprehension,  she  slowly 
unfolded  it.  What  first  attracted  her  attention  was  a 
paragraph  on  the  first  page  marked  round  with  red 


THE   COUNTS    MILLIONS  217 

chalk.  The  paper  had  evidently  been  sent  in  order  that 
she  might  read  this  particular  passage,  and  accordingly 
she  began  to  peruse  it.  "  There  was  a  great  sensation 
and  a  terrible  scandal  last  evening  at  the  residence  of 
Madame  d'A ,  a  well  known  star  of  the  first  mag- 
nitude  " 

It  was  the  shameful  article  which  described  the 
events  that  had  robbed  Pascal  of  his  honor.  And  to 
make  assurance  doubly  sure,  to  prevent  the  least  mis- 
take concerning  the  printed  initials,  the  coward  who 
sent  the  paper  had  appended  the  names  of  the  persons 
mixed  up  in  the  affair,  at  full  length,  in  pencil.  He 
had  written  d'Argeles,  Pascal  Ferailleur,  Ferdinand  de 
Coralth,  Rochecote.  And  yet,  in  spite  of  these  precau- 
tions, the  girl  did  not  at  first  seize  the  full  meaning  of 
the  article;  and  she  was  obliged  to  read  it  over  again. 
But  when  she  finally  understood  it — when  the  horrible 
truth  burst  upon  her — the  paper  fell  from  her  nerve- 
less hands,  she  turned  as  pale  as  death,  and,  gasping 
for  breath,  leaned  heavily  against  the  wall  for  support. 

Her  features  expressed  such  terrible  suffering  that 
the  magistrate  sprang  from  his  chair  with  a  bound. 
"  What  has  happened  ?  "  he  eagerly  asked. 

She  tried  to  reply,  but  finding  herself  unable  to  do 
so,  she  pointed  to  the  paper  lying  upon  the  floor,  and 
gasped:  « There!  there!" 

The  magistrate  understood  everything  at  the  first 
glance;  and  this  man,  who  had  witnessed  so  much 
misery — who  had  been  the  confidant  of  so  many  mar- 
tyrs— was  filled  with  consternation  at  thought  of  the 
misfortunes  which  destiny  was  heaping  upon  this  de- 
fenceless girl.  He  approached  her,  and  led  her  gently 
to  an  arm-chair,  upon  which  she  sank,  half  fainting. 
"  Poor  child !  "  he  murmured.  "  The  man  you  had 


218  THE   COUNTS   MILLIONS 

chosen — the  man  whom  you  would  have  sacrificed 
everything  for — is  Pascal  Ferailleur,  is  he  not?" 

"  Yes,  it  is  he/' 

"He  is  an  advocate?" 

"  As  I  have  already  told  you,  monsieur." 

"  Does  he  live  in  the  Rue  d'Ulm?  » 

"  Yes." 

The  magistrate  shook  his  head  sadly.  "It  is  the 
same,"  said  he.  "  I  also  know  him,  my  poor  child ;  and 
I  loved  and  honored  him.  Yesterday  I  should  have 
told  you  that  he  was  worthy  of  you.  He  was  above 
slander.  But  now,  see  what  depths  love  of  play  has 
brought  him  to.  He  is  a  thief ! " 

Mademoiselle  Marguerite's  weakness  vanished.  She 
sprang  from  her  chair,  and  indignantly  faced  the  mag- 
istrate. "It  is  false!"  she  cried,  vehemently;  "and 
what  that  paper  says  is  false  as  well ! " 

Had  her  reason  been  affected  by  so  many  successive 
blows?  It  seemed  likely;  for,  livid  a  moment  before, 
her  face  had  now  turned  scarlet.  She  trembled  ner- 
vously from  head  to  foot,  and  there  was  a  gleam  of 
insanity  in  her  big  black  eyes. 

"  If  she  doesn't  weep,  she  is  lost,"  thought  the  mag- 
istrate. And,  instead  of  encouraging  her  to  hope,  he 
deemed  it  best  to  try  and  destroy  what  he  considered 
a  dangerous  illusion.  "Alas!  my  poor  child,"  he  said 
sadly,  "you  must  not  deceive  yourself.  The  news- 
papers are  often  hasty  in  their  judgment;  but  an 
article  like  that  is  only  published  when  proof  of  its 
truth  is  furnished  by  witnesses  of  unimpeachable 
veracity." 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders  as  if  she  were  listening 
to  some  monstrous  absurdities,  and  then  thoughtfully 
muttered :  "  Ah !  now  Pascal's  silence  is  explained ;  now 


SHE  POINTED  TO  THE  PAPER  LYING  UPON  THE  FLOOR,  AND  GASPED: 
"THERE!  THERE!" 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  219 

I  understand  why  he  has  not  yet  replied  to  the  letter 
I  wrote  him  last  night." 

The  magistrate  persevered,,  however,  and  added :  "So, 
after  the  article  you  have  just  read,  no  one  can  enter* 
tain  the  shadow  of  a  doubt" 

Mademoiselle  Marguerite  hastily  interrupted  him, 
"  But  I  have  not  doubted  him  for  a  second ! "  she  ex- 
claimed. "Doubt  Pascal!  I  doubt  Pascal!  I  would 
sooner  doubt  myself.  I  might  commit  a  dishonorable 
act;  I  am  only  a  poor,  weak,,  ignorant  girl,  while  he — 
he You  don't  know,  then,  that  he  was  my  con- 
science ?  Before  undertaking  anything,  before  deciding 
upon  anything,  if  ever  I  felt  any  doubt,  I  asked  myself, 
'  What  would  he  do  ? '  And  the  mere  thought  of  him 
is  sufficient  to  banish  any  unworthy  idea  from  my 
heart."  Her  tone  and  manner  betokened  complete  and 
unwavering  confidence;  and  her  faith  imparted  an  al- 
most sublime  expression  to  her  face.  "  If  I  was  over- 
come, monsieur,"  she  continued,  "it  was  only  because 
I  was  appalled  by  the  audacity  of  the  accusation.  How 
was  it  possible  to  make  Pascal  even  seem  to  be  guilty 
of  a  dishonorable  act?  This  is  beyond  my  powers  of 
comprehension.  I  am  only  certain  of  one  thing — that 
he  is  innocent.  If  the  whole  world  rose  to  testify 
against  him,  it  would  not  shake  my  faith  in  him,  and 
even  if  he  confessed  that  he  was  guilty  I  should  be 
more  likely  to  believe  that  he  was  crazed  than  cul- 
pable ! " 

A  bitter  smile  curved  her  lips,  she  was  beginning  to 
judge  the  situation  more  correctly,  and  in  a  calmer  tone 
she  resumed :  "  Moreover,  what  does  circumstantial  evi- 
dence prove?  Did  you  not  this  morning  hear  all  our 
servants  declaring  that  I  was  accountable  for  M.  de 
Chalusse's  millions?  Who  knows  what  might  have 


220  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

happened  if  it  had  not  been  for  your  intervention? 
Perhaps,  by  this  time.,  I  should  have  been  in  prison/* 

"This  is  not  a  parallel  case,  my  child." 

"  It  is  a  parallel  case,  monsieur.  Suppose,  for  one 
moment,  that  I  had  been  formally  accused — what  do 
you  think  Pascal  would  have  replied  if  people  had  gone 
to  him,  and  said,  '  Marguerite  is  a  thief?'  He  would 
have  laughed  them  to  scorn,  and  have  exclaimed,  '  Im- 
possible !  > " 

The  magistrate's  mind  was  made  up.  In  his  opinion, 
Pascal  Ferailleur  was  guilty.  Still  it  was  useless  to 
argue  with  the  girl,  for  he  felt  that  he  should  not  be 
able  to  convince  her.  However,  he  determined,  if  possi- 
ble, to  ascertain  her  plans  in  order  to  oppose  them,  if 
they  seemed  to  him  at  all  dangerous.  "  Perhaps  you 
are  right,  my  child,"  he  conceded,  "  still,  this  unfor- 
tunate affair  must  change  all  your  arrangements." 

"  Rather,  it  modifies  them."  Surprised  by  her  calm- 
ness, he  looked  it  her  inquiringly.  "  An  hour  ago," 
she  added,  "  I  had  resolved  to  go  to  Pascal  and  claim 
his  aid  and  protection  as  one  claims  an  undeniable  right 
or  the  fulfilment  of  a  solemn  promise ;  but  now " 

"  Well  ?  "  eagerly  asked  the  magistrate. 

"  I  am  still  resolved  to  go  to  him — but  as  an  humble 
suppliant.  And  I  shall  say  to  him,  '  You  are  suffering, 
but  no  sorrow  is  intolerable  when  there  are  two  to  bear 
the  burden;  and  so,  here  I  am.  Everything  else  may 
fail  you — your  dearest  friends  may  basely  desert  you; 
but  here  am  I.  Whatever  your  plans  may  be — whether 
you  have  decided  to  leave  Europe  or  to  remain  in  Paris 
to  watch  for  your  hour  of  vengeance,  you  will  need  a 
faithful,  trusty  companion — a  confidant — and  here  I 
am !  Wife,  friend,  sister — I  will  be  which  ever  you 
desire.  I  am  yours — yours  unconditionally.' >;  And  as 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  221 

if  in  reply  to  a  gesture  of  surprise  which  escaped  the 
magistrate,  she  added :  "  He  is  unhappy — I  am  free — 
I  love  him !  " 

The  magistrate  was  struck  dumb  with  astonishment. 
He  knew  that  she  would  surely  do  what  she  said;  he 
had  realized  that  she  was  one  of  those  generous,,  heroic 
women  who  are  capable  of  any  sacrifice  for  the  man 
they  love — a  woman  who  would  never  shrink  from 
what  she  considered  to  be  her  duty,  who  was  utterly 
incapable  of  weak  hesitancy  or  selfish  calculation. 

"  Fortunately,  my  dear  young  lady,  your  devotion 
will  no  doubt  be  useless,"  he  said  at  last. 

"And  why?" 

"  Because  M.  Ferailleur  owes  it  to  you,  and,  what  is 
more,  he  owes  it  to  himself,  not  to  accept  such  a  sacri- 
fice." Failing  to  understand  his  meaning,  she  looked 
at  him  inquiringly.  "  You  will  forgive  me,  I  trust," 
he  continued,  "  if  I  warn  you  to  prepare  for  a  disap- 
pointment. Innocent  or  guilty,  M.  Ferailleur  is — dis- 
graced. Unless  something  little  short  of  a  miracle 
comes  to  help  him,  his  career  is  ended.  This  is  one  of 
those  charges — one  of  those  slanders,  if  you  prefer  that 
term,  which  a  man  can  never  shake  off.  So  how  can 
you  hope  that  he  will  consent  to  link  your  destiny  to 
his?" 

She  had  not  thought  of  this  objection,  and  it  seemed 
to  her  a  terrible  one.  Tears  came  to  her  dark  eyes, 
and  in  a  despondent  voice  she  murmured :  "  God  grant 
that  he  will  not  evince  such  cruel  generosity.  The 
only  great  and  true  misfortune  that  could  strike  me 
now  would  be  to  have  him  repel  me.  M.  de  Chalusse's 
death  leaves  me  without  means — without  bread;  but 
now  I  can  almost  bless  my  poverty  since  it  enables  me 
to  ask  him  what  would  become  of  me  if  he  abandoned 


222  THE   COUNT'S   MILLIONS 

me,  and  who  would  protect  me  if  he  refused  to  do  so. 
The  brilliant  career  he  dreamed  of  is  ended,  you  say. 
Ah,  well!  I  will  console  him,  and  though  we  are  un- 
fortunate, we  may  yet  be  happy.  Our  enemies  are 
triumphant — so  be  it :  we  should  only  tarnish  our  honor 
by  stooping  to  contend  against  such  villainy.  But  in 
some  new  land,  in  America,  perhaps,  we  shall  be  able 
to  find  some  quiet  spot  where  we  can  begin  a  new  and 
better  career/'  It  was  almost  impossible  to  believe 
that  it  was  Mademoiselle  Marguerite,  usually  so 
haughtily  reserved,  who  was  now  speaking  with  such 
passionate  vehemence.  And  to  whom  was  she  talking 
in  this  fashion?  To  a  stranger,  whom  she  saw  for  the 
first  time.  But  she  was  urged  on  by  circumstances,  the 
influence  of  which  was  stronger  than  her  own  will. 
They  had  led  her  to  reveal  her  dearest  and  most  sacred 
feelings  and  to  display  her  real  nature  free  from  any 
kind  of  disguise. 

However,  the  magistrate  concealed  the  emotion  and 
sympathy  which  filled  his  heart  and  refused  to  admit 
that  the  girl's  hopes  were  likely  to  be  realized.  "  And 
if  M.  Ferailleur  refused  to  accept  your  sacrifice  ?  "  he 
asked. 

"  It  is  not  a  sacrifice,  monsieur." 

"  No  matter ;  but  supposing  he  refused  it,  what 
should  you  do  ?  " 

"  What  should  I  do  ?  "  she  muttered.  "  I  don't  know. 
Still  I  should  have  no  difficulty  in  earning  a  livelihood. 
I  have  been  told  that  I  have  a  remarkable  voice.  I 
might,  perhaps,  go  upon  the  stage." 

The  magistrate  sprang  from  his  arm-chair.  "You 
become  an  actress,  you?  " 

"  Under  such  circumstances  it  would  little  matter 
what  became  of  me !  " 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  223 

"But  you  don't  suspect — you  cannot  imagine " 

He  was  at  a  loss  for  words  to  explain  the  nature  of 
his  objections  to  such  a  career ;  and  it  was  Mademoiselle 
Marguerite  who  found  them  for  him.  "  I  suspect  that 
theatrical  life  is  an  abominable  life  for  a  woman/'  she 
said,  gravely ;  "  but  I  know  that  there  are  many  noble 
and  chaste  women  who  have  adopted  the  profession. 
That  is  enough  for  me.  My  pride  is  a  sufficient  pro- 
tection. It  preserved  me  as  an  apprentice;  it  would 
preserve  me  as  an  actress.  I  might  be  slandered;  but 
that  is  not  an  irremediable  misfortune.  I  despise  the 
world  too  much  to  be  troubled  by  its  opinion  so  long 
as  I  have  the  approval  of  my  own  conscience.  And 
why  should  I  not  become  a  great  artiste  if  I  consecrated 
all  the  intelligence,  passion,  energy,  and  will  I  might 
possess,  to  my  art?" 

Hearing  a  knock  at  the  door  she  paused ;  and  a  mo- 
ment later  a  footman  entered  with  lights,  for  night  was 
falling.  He  was  closely  followed  by  another  servant, 
who  said :  "  Mademoiselle,  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay  is 
below,  and  wishes  to  know  if  mademoiselle  will  grant 
him  the  honor  of  an  interview." 


XII. 


ON  hearing  M.  de  Valorsay's  name,  Mademoiselle 
Marguerite  and  the  magistrate  exchanged  glances  full 
of  wondering  conjecture.  The  girl  was  undecided  what 
course  to  pursue ;  but  the  magistrate  put  an  end  to  her 
perplexity.  "  Ask  the  marquis  to  come  up,"  he  said 
to  the  servant. 

The  footman  left  the  room;  and,  as  soon  as  he  had 
disappeared,,     Mademoiselle     Marguerite     exclaimed: 


224  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

"What,  monsieur!  after  all  I  have  told  you,  you  still 
wish  me  to  receive  him?" 

"  It  is  absolutely  necessary  that  you  should  do  so. 
You  must  know  what  he  wishes  and  what  hope 
brings  him  here.  Calm  yourself,  and  submit  to  neces- 
sity." 

In  a  sort  of  bewilderment,  the  girl  hastily  arranged 
her  disordered  dress,  and  caught  up  her  wavy  hair 
which  had  fallen  over  her  shoulders.  "  Ah  !  monsieur/'" 
she  remarked,  "  don't  you  understand  that  he  still  be- 
lieves me  to  be  the  count's  heiress?  In  his  eyes,  I  am 
still  surrounded  by  the  glamor  of  the  millions  which 
are  mine  no  longer." 

"  Hush !  here  he  comes  !  " 

The  Marquis  de  Valorsay  was  indeed  upon  the 
threshold,  and  a  moment  later  he  entered  the  room. 
He  was  clad  with  the  exquisite  taste  of  those  intelli- 
gent gentlemen  to  whom  the  color  of  a  pair  of  trousers 
is  a  momentous  matter,  and  whose  ambition  is  satisfied 
if  they  are  regarded  as  a  sovereign  authority  respecting 
the  cut  of  a  waistcoat.  As  a  rule,  his  expression  of 
face  merely  denoted  supreme  contentment  with  himself 
and  indifference  as  to  others,  but  now,  strange  to  say, 
he  looked  grave  and  almost  solemn.  His  right  leg — 
the  unfortunate  limb  which  had  been  broken  when  he 
fell  from  his  horse  in  Ireland — seemed  stiff,  and 
dragged  a  trifle  more  than  usual,  but  this  was  probably 
solely  due  to  the  influence  of  the  atmosphere.  He 
bowed  to  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  with  every  mark  of 
profound  respect,  and  without  seeming  to  notice  the 
magistrate's  presence. 

"  You  will  excuse  me,  I  trust,  mademoiselle,"  said 
he,  "  in  having  insisted  upon  seeing  you,  so  that  I 
might  express  my  deep  sympathy.  I  have  just  heard 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  225 

of  the  terrible  misfortune  which  has  befallen  you — the 
sudden  death  of  your  father." 

She  drew  back  as  if  she  were  terrified,  and  repeated : 
"My  father!" 

The  marquis  did  not  evince  the  slightest  surprise. 
"  I  know,"  said  he,  in  a  voice  which  he  tried  to  make 
as  feeling  as  possible,  "  I  know  that  M.  de  Chalusse 
kept  this  fact  concealed  from  you;  but  he  confided  his 
secret  to  me." 

"  To  you  ?  "  interrupted  the  magistrate,  who  was  un- 
able to  restrain  himself  any  longer. 

The  marquis  turned  haughtily  to  this  old  man  dressed 
in  black,  and  in  the  dry  tone  one  uses  in  speaking  to 
an  indiscreet  inferior,  he  replied :  "  To  me,  yes,  mon- 
sieur; and  he  acquainted  me  not  only  by  word  of 
mouth,  but  in  writing  also,  with  the  motives  which  in- 
fluenced him,  expressing  his  fixed  intention,  not  only 
of  recognizing  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  as  his  daugh- 
ter, but  also  of  adopting  her  in  order  to  insure  her  un- 
disputed right  to  his  fortune  and  his  name." 

"  Ah ! "  said  the  magistrate  as  if  suddenly  enlight- 
ened; "ah!  ah!" 

But  without  noticing  this  exclamation  which  was,  at 
least,  remarkable  in  tone,  M.  de  Valorsay  again  turned 
to  Mademoiselle  Marguerite,  and  continued :  "  Your 
ignorance  on  this  subject,  mademoiselle,  convinces  me 
that  your  servants  have  not  deceived  me  in  telling  me 
that  M.  de  Chalusse  was  struck  down  without  the 
slightest  warning.  But  they  have  told  me  one  thing 
which  I  cannot  believe.  They  have  told  me  that  the 
count  made  no  provision  for  you,  that  he  left  no  will, 
and  that — excuse  a  liberty  which  is  prompted  only  by 
the  most  respectful  interest — and  that,  the  result  of 
this  incomprehensible  and  culpable  neglect  is  that  you 


226  THE   COUNT'S   MILLIONS 

are  ruined  and  almost  without  means.  Can  this  be 
possible  ?  " 

"  It  is  the  exact  truth,  monsieur/'  replied  Mademoi- 
selle Marguerite.  "  I  am  reduced  to  the  necessity  of 
working  for  my  daily  bread/' 

She  spoke  these  words  with  a  sort  of  satisfaction, 
expecting  that  the  marquis  would  betray  his  disap- 
pointed covetousness  by  some  significant  gesture  or  ex- 
clamation, and  she  was  already  prepared  to  rejoice  at 
his  confusion.  But  her  expectations  were  not  realized. 
Instead  of  evincing  the  slightest  dismay  or  even  regret, 
M.  de  Valorsay  drew  a  long  breath,  as  if  a  great  bur- 
den had  been  lifted  from  his  heart,  and  his  eyes  sparkled 
with  apparent  delight.  "  Then  I  may  venture  to  speak," 
he  exclaimed,  with  unconcealed  satisfaction,  "  I  will 
speak,  mademoiselle,  if  you  will  deign  to  allow  me." 

She  looked  at  him  with  anxious  curiosity,  wonder- 
ing what  was  to  come.  "  Speak,  monsieur,"  she  fal- 
tered. 

"  I  will  obey  you.  mademoiselle,"  he  said,  bowing 
again.  "  But  first,  alitw  me  to  tell  you  how  great  my 
hopes  have  been.  M.  de  Chalusse's  death  is  an  irre- 
parable misfortune  for  me  as  for  yourself.  He  had 
allowed  me,  mademoiselle,  to  aspire  to  the  honor  of 
becoming  a  suitor  for  your  hand.  If  he  did  not  speak 
to  you  on  the  subject,  it  was  only  because  he  wished 
to  leave  you  absolutely  free,  and  impose  upon  me  the 
difficult  task  of  winning  your  consent.  But  between 
him  and  rne  everything  had  been  arranged  in  principle, 
and  he  was  to  give  a  dowry  of  three  millions  of  francs 
to  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  de  Chalusse,  his  daughter." 

"  I  am  no  longer  Mademoiselle  de  Chalusse,  Mon- 
sieur le  Marquis,  and  I  am  no  longer  the  possessor 
of  a  fortune." 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  227 

He  felt  the  sharp  sting  of  this  retort,  for  the  blood 
rose  to  his  cheeks,  still  he  did  not  lose  his  composure. 
"  If  you  were  still  rich,  mademoiselle/'  he  replied,  in 
the  reproachful  tone  of  an  honest  man  who  feels  that 
he  is  misunderstood,  "  I  should,  perhaps,  have  strength 
to  keep  the  sentiments  with  which  you  have  inspired 

me  a  secret  in  my  own  heart;  but "    He  rose,  and 

with  a  gesture  which  was  not  devoid  of  grace,  and  in  a 
full  ringing  voice  he  added:  "But  you  are  no  longer 
the  possessor  of  millions ;  and  so  I  may  tell  you,  Made- 
moiselle Marguerite,  that  I  love  you.  Will  you  be  my 
wife?" 

The  poor  girl  was  obliged  to  exercise  all  her  powers 
of  self-control  to  restrain  an  exclamation  of  dismay.  It 
was  indeed  more  than  dismay ;  she  was  absolutely  terri- 
fied by  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay's  unexpected  declara- 
tion, and  she  could  only  falter :  "  Monsieur !  monsieur  !" 

But  with  an  air  of  winning  frankness  he  continued: 
"  Need  I  tell  you  who  I  am,  mademoiselle  ?  No ;  that 
is  unnecessary.  The  fact  that  my  suit  was  approved 
of  by  M.  de  Chalusse'  is  the  best  recommendation  I 
can  offer  you.  The  pure  and  stainless  name  I  bear  is 
one  of  the  proudest  in  France ;  and  though  my  fortune 
may  have  been  somewhat  impaired  by  youthful  folly, 
it  is  still  more  than  sufficient  to  maintain  an  establish- 
ment in  keeping  with  my  rank." 

Mademoiselle  Marguerite  was  still  powerless  to  re- 
ply. Her  presence  of  mind  had  entirely  deserted  her, 
and  her  tongue  seemed  to  cleave  to  her  palate.  She 
glanced  entreatingly  at  the  old  magistrate,  as  if  im- 
ploring his  intervention,  but  he  was  so  absorbed  in 
contemplating  his  wonderful  ring,  that  one  might  have 
imagined  he  was  oblivious  of  all  that  was  going  on 
around  him. 


228  THE   COUNT'S   MILLIONS 

"  I  am  aware  that  I  have  so  far  not  been  fortunate 
enough  to  please  you,  mademoiselle,"  continued  the 
marquis.  "  M.  de  Chalusse  did  not  conceal  it  from 
me — I  remember,  alas !  that  I  advocated  in  your  pres- 
ence a  number  of  stupid  theories,  which  must  have 
given  you  a  very  poor  opinion  of  me.  But  you  will  for- 
give me,  I  trust.  My  ideas  have  entirely  changed  since 
I  have  learned  to  understand  and  appreciate  your  vig- 
orous intellect  and  nobility  of  soul.  I  thoughtlessly 
spoke  to  you  in  the  language  which  is  usually  addressed 
to  young  ladies  of  our  rank  of  life — frivolous  beauties, 
who  are  spoiled  by  vanity  and  luxury,  and  who  look 
upon  marriage  only  as  a  means  of  enfranchisement.1" 

His  words  were  disjointed  as  if  emotion  choked  his 
utterance.  At  times,  it  seemed  as  if  he  could  scarcely 
command  his  feelings;  and  then  his  voice  became  so 
faint  and  trembling  that  it  was  scarcely  intelligible. 

However,  by  allowing  him  to  continue,  by  listening 
to  what  he  said,  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  was  encour- 
aging him,  even  more — virtually  binding  herself.  She 
understood  that  this  was  the  case,  and  making  a  pow- 
erful effort,  she  interrupted  him,  saying :  "  I  assure  you, 
Monsieur  le  Marquis,  that  I  am  deeply  touched — and 
grateful — but  I  am  no  longer  free." 

"  Pray,  mademoiselle,  pray  do  not  reply  to-day. 
Grant  me  a  little  time  to  overcome  your  prejudices." 

She  shook  her  head,  and  in  a  firmer  voice,  replied: 
"  I  have  no  prejudices ;  but  for  some  time  past  already, 
my  future  has  been  decided,  irrevocably  decided." 

He  seemed  thunderstruck,  and  his  manner  apparent- 
ly indicated  that  the  possibility  of  a  repulse  had  never 
entered  his  mind.  His  eyes  wandered  restlessly  from 
Mademoiselle  Marguerite  to  the  countenance  of  the  old 
magistrate,  who  remained  as  impassive  as  a  sphinx, 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  229 

and  at  last  they  lighted  on  a  newspaper  which  was 
lying  on  the  floor  at  the  young  girl's  feet.  "  Do  not 
deprive  me  of  all  hope/'  he  murmured. 

She  made  no  answer,  and  understanding  her  silence, 
he  was  about  to  retire  when  the  door  suddenly  opened 
and  a  servant  announced :  "  Monsieur  de  Fondege." 

Mademoiselle  Marguerite  touched  the  magistrate  on 
the  shoulder  to  attract  his  attention.  "  This  gentleman 
is  M.  de  Chalusse's  friend  whom  I  sent  for  this  morn- 
ing." 

At  the  same  moment  a  man  who  looked  some  sixty 
years  of  age  entered  the  room.  He  was  very  tall,  and 
as  straight  as  the  letter  I,  being  arrayed  in  a  long  blue 
frock-coat,  while  his  neck,  which  was  as  red  and  as 
wrinkled  as  that  of  a  turkey-cock,  was  encased  in  a 
very  high  and  stiff  satin  cravat.  On  seeing  his  ruddy 
face,  his  closely  cropped  hair,  his  little  eyes  twinkling 
under  his  bushy  eyebrows,  and  his  formidable  mus- 
taches a  la  Victor  Emmanuel,  you  would  have  immedi- 
ately exclaimed :  "  That  man  is  an  old  soldier !  " 

A  great  mistake !  M.  de  Fondege  had  never  been 
in  the  service,  and  it  was  only  in  mockery  of  his  some- 
what bellicose  manners  and  appearance  that  some 
twenty  years  previously  his  friends  had  dubbed  him 
"  the  General."  However,  the  appellation  had  clung  to 
him.  The  nickname  had  been  changed  to  a  title,  and 
now  M.  de  Fondege  was  known  as  "the  General" 
everywhere.  He  was  invited  and  announced  as  <e  the 
General."  Many  people  believed  that  he  had  really 
been  one,  and  perhaps  he  fancied  so  himself,  for  he  had 
long  been  in  the  habit  of  inscribing  "  General  A.  de 
Fondege  "  on  his  visiting  cards.  The  nickname  had  had 
a  decisive  influence  on  his  life.  He  had  endeavored  to 
show  himself  worthy  of  it,  and  the  manners  he  had  at 


230  THE   COUNT'S   MILLIONS 

first  assumed,  eventually  became  natural  ones.  He 
seemed  to  be  the  conventional  old  soldier — irascible 
and  jovial  at  the  same  time;  brusk  and  kind;  at  once 
frank,  sensible  and  brutal ;  as  simple  as  a  child,  and  yet 
as  true  as  steel.  He  swore  the  most  tremendous  oaths 
in  a  deep  bass  voice,  and  whenever  he  talked  his  arms 
revolved  like  the  sails  of  a  windmill.  However,  Madame 
de  Fondege,  who  was  a  very  angular  lady,  with  a 
sharp  nose  and  very  thin  lips,  assured  people  that  her 
husband  was  not  so  terrible  as  he  appeared.  He  was 
not  considered  very  shrewd,  and  he  pretended  to  have 
an  intense  dislike  for  business  matters.  No  one  knew 
anything  precise  about  his  fortune,  but  he  had  a  great 
many  friends  who  invited  him  to  dinner,  and  they  all 
declared  that  he  was  in  very  comfortable  circum- 
stances. 

On  entering  the  study  this  worthy  man  did  not  pay 
the  slightest  attention  to  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay,  al- 
though they  were  intimate  friends.  He  walked  straight 
up  to  Mademoiselle  Marguerite,  caught  her  in  his  long 
arms,  and  pressed  her  to  his  heart,  brushing  her  face 
with  his  huge  mustaches  as  he  pretended  to  kiss  her. 
"  Courage,  my  dear,"  he  growled;  "courage.  Don't 
give  way.  Follow  my  example.  Look  at  me ! "  So 
saying  he  stepped  back,  and  it  was  really  amusing  to 
see  the  extraordinary  effort  he  made  to  combine  a  sol- 
dier's stoicism  with  a  friend's  sorrow.  "You  must 
wonder  at  my  delay,  my  dear,"  he  resumed,  "but  it 
was  not  my  fault.  I  was  at  Madame  de  Rochecote's 
when  I  was  informed  that  your  messenger  was  at  home 
waiting  for  me.  I  returned,  and  heard  the  frightful 
news.  It  was  a  thunderbolt.  A  friend  of  thirty  years' 
standing!  A  thousand  thunderclaps!  I  acted  as  his 
second  when  he  fought  his  first  duel.  Poor  Chalusse! 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  231 

A  man  as  sturdy  as  an  oak,  and  who  ought  to  have 
outlived  us  all.  But  it  is  always  so;  the  best  soldiers 
always  file  by  first  at  dress-parade/' 

The  Marquis  de  Valorsay  had  beaten  a  retreat,  the 
magistrate  was  hidden  in  a  dark  corner,,  and  Mademoi- 
selle Marguerite,  who  was  accustomed  to  the  General's 
manner,  remained  silent,  being  well  aware  that  there 
was  no  chance  of  putting  in  a  word  as  long  as  he  had 
possession  of  the  floor.  "  Fortunatelv,  poor  Chalusse 
was  a  prudent  man/'  continued  M.  de  i7ondege.  "  He 
loved  you  devotedly,  my  dear,  as  his  testamentary  pro- 
visions must  have  shown  you." 

"  His  provisions  ?  " 

"  Yes,  most  certainly.  Surely  you  don't  mean  to  try 
and  conceal  anything  from  one  who  knows  all.  Ah! 
you  will  be  one  of  the  greatest  catches  in  Europe,  and 
you  will  have  plenty  of  suitors." 

Mademoiselle  Marguerite  sadly  shook  her  head. 
"You  are  mistaken,  General;  the  count  left  no  will, 
and  has  made  no  provision  whatever  for  me." 

M.  de  Fondege  trembled,  turned  a  trifle  pale,  and 
in  a  faltering  voice,  exclaimed :  "  What !  You  tell  me 
that  ?  Chalusse  !  A  thousand  thunderclaps !  It  isn't 
possible." 

"The  count  was  stricken  with  apoplexy  in  a  cab. 
He  went  out  about  five  o'clock,  on  foot,  and  a  little 
before  seven  he  was  brought  home  unconscious.  Where 
he  had  been  we  don't  know." 

"  You  don't  know  ?  you  don't  know  ?  " 

"  Alas !  no ;  and  he  was  only  able  to  utter  a  few  in- 
coherent words  before  he  died."  Thereupon  the  poor 
girl  began  a  brief  account  of  what  had  taken  place 
during  the  last  four-and-twenty  hours.  Had  she  been 
less  absorbed  in  her  narrative  she  would  have  noticed 


232  THE   COUNT'S   MILLIONS 

that  the  General  was  not  listening  to  her.  He  was  sit- 
ting at  the  count's  desk  and  was  toying  with  the  letters 
which  Madame  Leon  had  brought  into  the  room  a  short 
time  previously.  One  of  them  especially  seemed  to  at- 
tract his  attention,  to  exercise  a  sort  of  fascination  over 
him  as  it  were.  He  looked  at  it  with  hungry  eyes,  and 
whenever  he  touched  it,  his  hand  trembled,  or  involun- 
tarily clinched.  His  face,  moreover,  had  become  livid ; 
his  eyes  twitched  nervously ;  he  seemed  to  have  a  diffi- 
culty in  breathing,  and  big  drops  of  perspiration  trickled 
down  his  forehead.  If  the  magistrate  were  able  to  see 
the  General's  face,  he  must  certainly  have  been  of 
opinion  that  a  terrible  conflict  was  raging  in  his  mind. 
The  struggle  lasted  indeed  for  fully  five  minutes,  and 
then  suddenly,  certain  that  no  one  saw  him,  he  caught 
up  the  letter  in  question  and  slipped  it  into  his  pocket. 

Poor  Marguerite  was  now  finishing  her  story :  "  You 
see,  monsieur,  that,  far  from  being  an  heiress,  as  you 
suppose,  I  am  homeless  and  penniless,"  she  said. 

The  General  had  risen  from  his  chair,  and  was  strid- 
ing up  and  down  the  room  with  every  token  of  intense 
agitation.  "  It's  true,"  he  said  apparently  unconscious 
of  his  words.  "  She's  ruined — lost — the  misfortune  is 
complete  !  "  Then,  suddenly  pausing  with  folded  arms 
in  front  of  Mademoiselle  Marguerite :  "  What  are  you 
going  to  do  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  God  will  not  forsake  me,  General,"  she  replied. 

He  turned  on  his  heel  and  resumed  his  promenade, 
wildly  gesticulating  and  indulging  in  a  furious  mono- 
logue which  was  certainly  not  very  easy  to  follow. 
"  Frightful !  terrible !  "  he  growled.  "  The  daughter  of 
an  old  comrade — zounds ! — of  a  friend  of  thirty  years' 
standing — to  be  left  in  such  a  plight!  Never,  a  thou- 
sand thunderclaps  ! — never !  Poor  child ! — a  heart  of 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  233 

gold,  and  as  pretty  as  an  angel !  This  horrible  Paris 
would  devour  her  at  a  single  mouthful !  It  would  be 
a  crime — an  abomination  !  It  sha'n't  be ! — the  old  vet- 
erans are  here,  firm  as  rocks  !  " 

Thereupon,  approaching  the  poor  girl  again,  he  ex- 
claimed in  a  coarse  but  seemingly  feeling  voice :  "Made- 
moiselle Marguerite." 

"General?" 

"  You  are  acquainted  with  my  son,  Gustave  Fondege, 
are  you  not  ?  " 

"  I  think  I  have  heard  you  speak  of  him  to  M.  de 
Chalusse  several  times." 

The  General  tugged  furiously  at  his  mustaches  as 
was  his  wont  whenever  he  was  perplexed  or  embar- 
rassed. "  My  son,"  he  resumed,  "  is  twenty-seven.  He's 
now  a  lieutenant  of  hussars,  and  will  soon  be  promoted 
to  the  rank  of  captain.  He's  a  handsome  fellow,  sure 
to  make  his  way  in  the  world,  for  he's  not  wanting  in 
spirit.  As  I  never  attempt  to  hide  the  truth,  I  must 
confess  that  he's  a  trifle  dissipated ;  but  his  heart  is  all 
right,  and  a  charming  little  wife  would  soon  turn  him 
from  the  error  of  his  ways,  and  he'd  become  the  pearl 
of  husbands."  He  paused,  passed  his  forefinger  three 
or  four  times  between  his  collar  and  his  neck,  and  then, 
in  a  half-strangled  voice,  he  added :  "  Mademoiselle 
Marguerite,  I  have  the  honor  to  ask  for  your  hand  in 
marriage  on  behalf  of  Lieutenant  Gustave  de  Fondege, 
my  son." 

There  was  a  dangerous  gleam  of  anger  in  Mademoi- 
selle Marguerite's  eyes,  as  she  coldly  replied:  "I  am 
honored  by  your  request,  monsieur;  but  my  future  is 
already  decided." 

Some  seconds  elapsed  before  M.  de  Fondege  could 
recover  his  powers  of  speech.  "  This  is  a  piece  of  fool- 


234  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

ishness,"  he  faltered,  at  last  with  singular  agitation. 
"  Let  me  hope  that  you  will  reconsider  the  matter.  And 
if  Gustave  doesn't  please  you,  we  will  find  some  one 
better.  But  under  no  circumstances  will  Chalusse's  old 
comrade  ever  desert  you.  I  shall  send  Madame  de 
Fondege  to  see  you  this  evening.  She's  a  good  woman 
and  you  will  understand  each  other.  Come,,  answer  me, 
what  do  you  say  to  it?" 

His  persistence  irritated  the  poor  girl  beyond  endur- 
ance, and  to  put  an  end  to  the  painful  scene,  she  at  last 
asked :  "  Would  you  not  like  to  look — for  the  last  time 
—at  M.  de  Chalusse?" 

"  Ah !  yes,  certainly — an  old  friend  of  thirty  years' 
standing."  So  saying  he  advanced  toward  the  door 
leading  into  the  death-room,  but  on  reaching  the 
threshold,  he  cried  in  sudden  terror :  "  Oh !  no,  no,  I 
could  not."  And  with  these  words  he  withdrew  or 
rather  he  fled  from  the  room  down  the  stairs. 

As  long  as  the  General  had  been  there,  the  magistrate 
had  given  no  sign  of  life.  But  seated  beyond  the  circle 
of  light  cast  by  the  lamps,  he  had  remained  an  atten- 
tive spectator  of  the  scene,  and  now  that  he  found  him- 
self once  more  alone  with  Mademoiselle  Marguerite 
he  came  forward,  and  leaning  against  the  mantelpiece 
and  looking  her  full  in  the  face  he  exclaimed :  "  Well, 
my  child?" 

The  girl  trembled  like  a  culprit  awaiting  sentence  of 
death,  and  it  was  in  a  hollow  voice  that  she  replied: 
"  I  understood " 

"What?"  insisted  the  pitiless  magistrate. 

She  raised  her  beautiful  eyes,  in  which  angry  tears 
were  still  glittering,  and  then  answered  in  a  voice  which 
quivered  with  suppressed  passion,  "  I  have  fathomed 
the  infamy  of  those  two  men  who  have  just  left  the 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  235 

house.  I  understood  the  insult  their  apparent  gener- 
osity conceals.  They  had  questioned  the  servants,  and 
had  ascertained  that  two  millions  were  missing.  Ah, 
the  scoundrels !  They  believe  that  I  have  stolen  those 
millions;  and  they  came  to  ask  me  to  share  the  ill- 
gotten  wealth  with  them.  What  an  insult !  and  to  think 
that  I  am  powerless  to  avenge  it!  Ah!  the  servants' 
suspicions  were  nothing  in  comparison  with  this.  At 
least,  they  did  not  ask  for  a  share  of  the  booty  as  the 
price  of  their  silence !  " 

The  magistrate  shook  his  head  as  if  this  explanation 
scarcely  satisfied  him.  "  There  is  something  else,  there 
is  certainly  something  else,"  he  repeated.  But  the  doors 
were  still  open,  so  he  closed  them  carefully,  and  then 
returned  to  the  girl  he  was  so  desirous  of  advising.  "  I 
wish  to  tell  you,"  he  said,  "  that  you  have  mistaken  the 
motives  which  induced  these  gentlemen  to  ask  for  your 
hand  in  marriage/' 

"  Do  \  you  believe,  then,  that  you  have  fathomed 
them?" 

"  I  could  almost  swear  that  I  had.  Didn't  you  re- 
mark a  great  difference  in  their  manner?  Didn't  one 
of  them,  the  marquis,  behave  with  all  the  calmness  and 
composure  which  are  the  result  of  reflection  and  cal- 
culation? The  other,  on  the  contrary,  acted  most  pre- 
cipitately, as  if  he  had  suddenly  come  to  a  determina- 
tion, and  formed  a  plan  on  the  impulse  of  the  moment." 

Mademoiselle  Marguerite  reflected. 

"  That's  true,"  she  said,  "  that's  indeed  true.  Now 
I  recollect  the  difference." 

"  And  this  is  my  explanation  of  it,"  resumed  the 
magistrate.  "'The  Marquis  de  Valorsay/  I  said  to 
myself,  (  must  have  proofs  in  his  possession  that  Made- 
moiselle Marguerite  is  the  count's  daughter — written 


236  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

and  conclusive  proofs,  that  is  certain — probably  a  vol- 
untary admission  of  the  fact  from  the  father.  Who  can 
prove  that  M.  de  Valorsay  does  not  possess  this  ac- 
knowledgment ?  In  fact,  he  must  possess  it.  He  hinted 
it  himself.'  Accordingly  on  hearing  of  the  count's  sud- 
den death,  he  said  to  himself,  'If  Marguerite  was  my 
wife,  and  if  I  could  prove  her  to  be  M.  de  Chalusse's 
daughter,  I  should  obtain  several  millions.'  Whereupon 
he  consulted  his  legal  adviser  who  assured  him  that  it 
would  be  the  best  course  he  could  pursue;  and  so  he 
came  here.  You  repulsed  him,  but  he  will  soon  make 
another  assault,  you  may  rest  assured  of  that.  And 
some  day  or  other  he  will  come  to  you  and  say, 
6  Whether  we  marry  or  not,  let  us  divide.' '' 

Mademoiselle  Marguerite  was  amazed.  The  magis- 
trate's words  seemed  to  dispel  the  mist  which  had 
hitherto  hidden  the  truth  from  view.  "  Yes,"  she  ex- 
claimed, "yes,  you  are  right,  monsieur." 

He  was  silent  for  a  moment,  and  then  he  resumed : 
ee  I  understand  M.  de  Fondege's  motive  less  clearly ; 
but  still  I  have  some  clue.  He  had  not  questioned  the 
servants.  That  is  evident  from  the  fact  that  on  his 
arrival  here  he  believed  you  to  be  the  sole  legatee.  He 
was  also  aware  that  M.  de  Chalusse  had  taken  certain 
precautions  we  are  ignorant  of,  but  which  he  is  no 
doubt  fully  acquainted  with.  What  you  told  him  about 
your  poverty  amazed  him,  and  he  immediately  evinced 
a  desire  to  atone  for  the  count's  neglect  with  as  much 
eagerness  as  if  he  were  the  cause  of  this  negligence 
himself.  And,  indeed,  judging  by  the  agitation  he  dis- 
played when  he  was  imploring  you  to  become  his  son's 
wife,  one  might  almost  imagine  that  the  sight  of  your 
misery  awakened  a  remorse  which  he  was  endeavoring 
to  quiet.  Now,  draw  your  own  conclusions." 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  237 

The  wretched  girl  looked  questioningly  at  the  magis- 
trate as  if  she  hesitated  to  trust  the  thoughts  which  his 
words  had  awakened  in  her  mind.  "  Then  you  think, 
monsieur/'  she  said,  with  evident  reluctance,  "you  think, 
you  suppose,  that  the  General  is  acquainted  with  the 
whereabouts  of  the  missing  millions  ?  " 

"  Quite  correct,"  answered  the  magistrate,  and  then 
as  if  he  feared  that  he  had  gone  too  far,  he  added  :  "  but 
draw  your  own  conclusions  respecting  the  matter.  You 
have  the  whole  night  before  you.  We  will  talk  it  over 
again  to-morrow,  and  if  I  can  be  of  service  to  you  in 
any  way,  I  shall  be  only  too  glad." 

"  But,  monsieur " 

"  Oh — to-morrow,  to-morrow — I  must  go  to  dinner 
now;  besides,  my  clerk  must  be  getting  terribly  im- 
patient." 

The  clerk  was,  indeed,  out  of  temper.  Not  that  he 
had  finished  taking  an  inventory  of  the  appurtenances 
of  this  immense  house,  but  because  he  considered  that 
he  had  done  quite  enough  work  for  one  day.  And  yet 
his  discontent  was  sensibly  diminished  when  he  cal- 
culated the  amount  he  would  receive  for  his  pains. 
During  the  nine  years  he  had  held  this  office  he  had 
never  made  such  an  extensive  inventory  before.  He 
seemed  somewhat  dazzled,  and  as  he  followed  his 
superior  out  of  the  house,  he  remarked :  "  Do  you  know, 
monsieur,  that  as  nearly  as  I  can  discover  the  de- 
ceased's fortune  must  amount  to  more  than  twenty  mil- 
lions— an  income  of  a  million  a  year !  And  to  think 
that  the  poor  young  lady  shouldn't  have  a  penny  of  it. 
I  suspect  she's  crying  her  eyes  out." 

But  the  clerk  was  mistaken.  Mademoiselle  Margue- 
rite was  then  questioning  M.  Casimir  respecting  the  ar- 
rangements which  he  had  made  for  the  funeral,  and 


238  THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS 

when  this  sad  duty  was  concluded,  she  consented  to 
take  a  little  food  standing  in  front  of  the  sideboard  in 
the  dining-room.  Then  she  went  to  kneel  in  the  count's 
room,  where  four  members  of  the  parochial  clergy  were 
reciting  the  prayers  for  the  dead. 

She  was  so  exhausted  with  fatigue  that  she  could 
scarcely  speak,  and  her  eyelids  were  heavy  with  sleep. 
But  she  had  another  task  to  fulfil,  a  task  which  she 
deemed  a  sacred  duty.  She  sent  a  servant  for  a  cab, 
threw  a  shawl  over  her  shoulders,  and  left  the  house 
accompanied  by  Madame  Leon.  The  cabman  drove  as 
fast  as  possible  to  the  house  where  Pascal  and  his 
mother  resided  in  the  Rue  d'Ulm;  but  on  arriving 
there,  the  front  door  was  found  to  be  closed,  and  the 
light  in  the  vestibule  was  extinguished.  Marguerite 
was  obliged  to  ring  five  or  six  times  before  the  con- 
cierge made  his  appearance. 

"  I  wish  to  see  Monsieur  Ferailleur,"  she  quietly 
said. 

The  man  glanced  at  her  scornfully,  and  then  replied : 
"  He  no  longer  lives  here.  The  landlord  doesn't  want 
any  thieves  in  his  house.  He's  sold  his  rubbish  and 
started  for  America,  with  his  old  witch  of  a  mother." 

So  saying  he  closed  the  door  again,  and  Marguerite 
was  so  overwhelmed  by  this  last  and  unexpected  mis- 
fortune, that  she  could  hardly  stagger  back  to  the  ve- 
hicle. "  Gone !  "  she  murmured ;  "  gone !  without  a 
thought  of  me!  Or  does  he  believe  me  to  be  like  all 
the  rest?  But  I  will  find  him  again.  That  man  For- 
tunat,  who  ascertained  addresses  for  M.  de  Ghalusse, 
will  find  Pascal  for  me/' 


THE   COUNTS   MILLIONS  239 


XIII. 

FEW  people  have  any  idea  of  the  great  number  of  es- 
tates which,  in  default  of  heirs  to  claim  them,  annually 
revert  to  the  government.  The  treasury  derives  large 
sums  from  this  source  every  year.  And  this  is  easily 
explained,  for  nowadays  family  ties  are  becoming  less 
and  less  binding.  Brothers  cease  to  meet;  their  chil- 
dren no  longer  know  each  other;  and  the  members  of 
the  second  generation  are  as  perfect  strangers  as  though 
they  were  not  united  by  a  bond  of  consanguinity.  The 
young  man  whom  love  of  adventure  lures  to  a  far-off 
country,  and  the  young  girl  who  marries  against  her 
parents'  wishes,  soon  cease  to  exist  for  their  relatives. 
No  one  even  inquires  what  has  become  of  them.  Those 
who  remain  at  home  are  afraid  to  ask  whether  they  are 
prosperous  or  unfortunate,  lest  they  should  be  called 
upon  to  assist  the  wanderers.  Forgotten  themselves, 
the  adventurers  in  their  turn  soon  forget.  If  fortune 
smiles  upon  them,  they  are  careful  not  to  inform  their 
relatives.  Poor — they  have  been  cast  off;  wealthy — 
they  themselves  deny  their  kindred.  Having  become 
rich  unaided,  they  find  an  egotistical  satisfaction  in 
spending  their  money  alone  in  accordance  with  their 
own  fancies.  Now  when  a  man  of  this  class  dies  what 
happens?  The  servants  and  people  around  him  profit 
of  his  loneliness  and  isolation,  and  the  justice  of  the 
peace  is  only  summoned  to  affix  the  seals,  after  they 
have  removed  all  the  portable  property.  An  inventory 
is  taken,  and  after  a  few  formalities,  as  no  heirs  pre- 
sent themselves,  the  court  declares  the  inheritance  to 
be  in  abeyance,  and  appoints  a  trustee. 


240  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

This  trustee's  duties  are  very  simple.  He  manages 
the  property  and  remits  the  income  to  the  Treasury 
until  a  legal  judgment  declares  the  estate  the  property 
of  the  country,  regardless  of  any  heirs  who  may  pre- 
sent themselves  in  future. 

"  If  I  only  had  a  twentieth  part  of  the  money  that  is 
lost  in  this  way,  my  fortune  would  be  made,"  exclaimed 
a  shrewd  man,  some  thirty  years  ago. 

The  person  who  spoke  was  Antoine  Vaudore.  For 
six  months  he  secretly  nursed  the  idea,  studying  it, 
examining  it  in  all  respects,  weighing  its  advantages 
and  disadvantages,  and  at  last  he  decided  that  it  was 
a  good  one.  That  same  year,  indeed,  assisted  by  a 
little  capital  which  he  had  obtained  no  one  knew  how, 
he  created  a  new,  strange,  and  untried  profession  to 
supply  a  new  demand. 

Thus  Vaudore  was  the  first  man  who  made  heir- 
hunting  a  profession.  As  will  be  generally  admitted, 
it  is  not  a  profession  that  can  be  successfully  fol- 
lowed by  a  craven.  It  requires  the  exercise  of  unusual 
shrewdness,  untiring  activity,  extraordinary  energy  and 
courage,  as  well  as  great  tact  and  varied  knowledge. 
The  man  who  would  follow  it  successfully  must  pos- 
sess the  boldness  of  a  gambler,  the  sang-froid  of  a 
duelist,  the  keen  perceptive  powers  and  patience  of  a 
detective,  and  the  resources  and  quick  wit  of  the 
shrewdest  attorney. 

It  is  easier  to  decry  the  profession  than  to  exercise 
it.  To  begin  with,  the  heir-hunter  must  be  posted  up 
with  information  respecting  unclaimed  inheritances,  and 
he  must  have  sufficient  acquaintance  with  the  legal 
world  to  be  able  to  obtain  information  from  the  clerks 
of  the  different  courts,  notaries,  and  so  on.  When  he 
learns  that  a  man  has  died  without  any  known  heirs, 


THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS  241 

his  first  care  is  to  ascertain  the  amount  of  unclaimed 
property,  to  see  if  it  will  pay  him  to  take  up  the  case. 
If  he  finds  that  the  inheritance  is  a  valuable  one,  he 
begins  operations  without  delay.  He  must  first  ascer- 
tain the  deceased's  full  name  and  age.  It  is  easy  to 
'  procure  this  information ;  but  it  is  more  difficult  to 
discover  the  name  of  the  place  where  the  deceased  was 
born,  his  profession,  what  countries  he  lived  in,  his 
tastes  and  mode  of  life — in  a  word,  everything  that 
constitutes  a  complete  biography. 

However,,  when  he  has  armed  himself  with  the  more 
indispensable  facts,  our  agent  opens  the  campaign  with 
extreme  prudence,  for  it  would  be  ruinous  to  awake 
suspicion.  It  is  curious  to  observe  the  incomparable 
address  which  the  agent  displays  in  his  efforts  to  learn 
the  particulars  of  the  deceased's  life,  by  consulting  his 
friends,  his  enemies,  his  debtors,  and  all  who  ever 
knew  him,  until  at  last  some  one  is  found  who  says : 
"  Such  and  such  a  man — why,  he  came  from  our  part 
of  the  country.  I  never  knew  him,  but  I  am  acquainted 
with  one  of  his  brothers — with  one  of  his  uncles — or 
with  one  of  his  nephews." 

Very  often  years  of  constant  research,  a  large  outlay 
of  money,  and  costly  and  skilful  advertising  in  all  the 
European  journals,  are  necessary  before  this  result  is 
reached.  And  it  is  only  when  it  has  been  attained  that 
the  agent  can  take  time  to  breathe.  But  now  the 
chances  are  greatly  in  his  favor.  The  worst  is  over. 
The  portion  of  his  task  which  depended  on  chance  alone 
is  concluded.  The  rest  is  a  matter  of  skill,  tact,  and 
shrewdness.  The  detective  must  give  place  to  the 
crafty  lawyer.  The  agent  must  confer  with  this  heir, 
who  has  been  discovered  at  the  cost  of  so  much  time 
and  trouble,  and  induce  him  to  bestow  a  portion  of  this 


242  THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS 

prospective  wealth  on  the  person  who  is  able  to  estab- 
lish his  claim.  There  must  be  an  agreement  in  writ- 
ing clearly  stating  what  proportion — a  tenth,  a  third, 
or  a  half — the  agent  will  be  entitled  to.  The  negotia- 
tion is  a  very  delicate  and  difficult  one,  requiring  pro- 
digious presence  of  mind,  and  an  amount  of  duplicity 
which  would  make  the  most  astute  diplomatist  turn  pale 
with  envy.  Occasionally,  the  heir  suspects  the  truth, 
sneers  at  the  proposition,  and  hurries  off  to  claim  the 
whole  of  the  inheritance  that  belongs  to  him.  The 
agent  may  then  bid  his  hopes  farewell.  He  has  worked 
and  spent  money  for  nothing. 

However,  such  a  misfortune  is  of  rare  occurrence. 
On  hearing  of  the  unexpected  good  fortune  that  has 
befallen  him,  the  heir  is  generally  unsuspicious,  and 
willingly  promises  to  pay  the  amount  demanded  of  him. 
A  contract  is  drawn  up  and  signed;  and  then,  but  only 
then,  does  the  agent  take  his  client  into  his  confidence. 
"  You  are  the  relative  of  such  a  person,  are  you  not  ?  " 
"  Yes."  "  Very  well.  He  is  dead,  and  you  are  his 
heir.  Thank  Providence,  and  make  haste  to  claim 
your  money." 

As  a  rule,  the  heir  loyally  fulfils  his  obligation.  But 
sometimes  it  happens  that,  when  he  has  obtained  undis- 
puted possession  of  the  property,  he  declares  that  he 
has  been  swindled,  and  refuses  to  fulfil  his  part  of  the 
contract.  Then  the  case  must  go  to  the  courts.  It  is 
true,  however,  that  the  judgment  of  the  tribunals  gen- 
erally recalls  the  refractory  client  to  a  sense  of  grati- 
tude and  humility. 

Now  our  friend  M.  Isidore  Fortunat  was  a  hunter 
of  missing  heirs.  Undoubtedly  he  often  engaged  in 
other  business  which  was  a  trifle  less  respectable;  but 
heir-hunting  was  one  of  the  best  and  most  substantial 


THE    COUNT'S   MILLIONS  243 

sources  of  his  income.  So  we  can  readily  understand 
why  he  so  quickly  left  off  lamenting  the  loss  of  the 
forty  thousand  francs  lent  to  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay. 

Changing  his  tactics,  he  said  to  himself  that,  even  if 
he  had  lost  this  amount  through  M.  de  Chalusse's  sud- 
den death,  it  was  much  less  than  he  might  obtain  if 
he  succeeded  in  discovering  the  unknown  heirs  to  so 
many  millions.  And  he  had  some  reason  to  hope  that 
he  would  be  able  to  do  so.  Having  been  employed  by 
M.  de  Chalusse  when  the  latter  was  seeking  Mademoi- 
selle Marguerite,  M.  Fortunat  had  gained  some  val- 
uable information  respecting  his  client,  and  the  addi- 
tional particulars  which  he  had  obtained  from  Madame 
Vantrasson  elated  him  to  such  an  extent  that  more  than 
once  he  exclaimed :  "  Ah,  well !  it  is,  perhaps,  a  blessing 
in  disguise,  after  all/5 

Still,  M.  Isidore  Fortunat  slept  but  little  after  his 
stormy  interview  with  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay.  A 
loss  of  forty  thousand  francs  is  not  likely  to  impart  a 
roseate  hue  to  one's  dreams — and  M.  Fortunat  prized 
his  money  as  if  it  had  been  the  very  marrow  of  his 
bones.  By  way  of  consolation,  he  assured  himself  that 
he  would  not  merely  regain  the  sum,  but  triple  it ;  and 
yet  this  encouragement  did  not  entirely  restore  his 
peace  of  mind.  The  gain  was  only  a  possibility,  and  the 
loss  was  a  certainty.  So  he  twisted,  and  turned,  and 
tossed  on  his  bed  as  if  it  had  been  a  hot  gridiron,  ex- 
hausting himself  in  surmises,  and  preparing  his  mind 
for  the  difficulties  which  he  would  be  obliged  to  over- 
come. 

His  plan  was  a  simple  one,  but  its  execution  was 
fraught  with  difficulties.  "  I  must  discover  M.  de 
Chalusse's  sister,  if  she  is  still  living — I  must  discover 
her  children,  if  she  is  dead,"  he  said  to  himself.  It  was 


244  THE   COUNT'S   MILLIONS 

easy  to  say  this ;  but  how  was  he  to  do  it  ?  How  could 
he  hope  to  find  this  unfortunate  girl,  who  had  aban- 
doned her  home  thirty  years  previously,  to  fly,  no 
one  knew  where,  or  with  whom  ?  How  was  he  to  gain 
any  idea  of  the  life  she  had  lived,  or  the  fate  that  had 
befallen  her?  At  what  point  on  the  social  scale,  and 
in  what  country,  should  he  begin  his  investigations? 
These  daughters  of  noble  houses,  who  desert  the 
paternal  roof  in  a  moment  of  madness,  generally  die 
most  miserably  after  a  wretched  life.  The  girl  of  the 
lower  classes  is  armed  against  misfortune,  and  has  been 
trained  for  the  conflict.  She  can  measure  and  calculate 
the  force  of  her  fall,  and  regulate  and  control  it  to  a 
certain  extent.  But  the  others  cannot.  They  have 
never  known  privation  and  hardship,  and  are,  therefore, 
defenceless.  And  for  the  very  reason  that  they  have 
been  hurled  from  a  great  height,  they  often  fall  down 
into  the  lowest  depths  of  infamy. 

"If  morning  would  only  come,"  sighed  M.  Isidore 
Fortunat,  as  he  tossed  restlessly  to  and  fro.  "  As  soon 
as  morning  comes  I  will  set  to  work ! " 

But  just  before  daybreak  he  fell  asleep ;  and  at  nine 
o'clock  he  was  still  slumbering  so  soundly  that  Madame 
Dodelin,  his  housekeeper,  had  considerable  difficulty  in 
waking  him.  "  Your  clerks  have  come/'  she  exclaimed, 
shaking  him  vigorously;  "and  two  clients  are  waiting 
for  you  in  the  reception-room." 

He  sprang  up,  hastily  dressed  himself,  and  went  into 
his  office.  It  cost  him  no  little  effort  to  receive  his 
visitors  that  morning;  but  it  would  have  been  folly  to 
neglect  all  his  other  business  for  the  uncertain  Chalusse 
affair.  The  first  client  who  entered  was  a  man  still 
young,  of  common,  even  vulgar  appearance.  Not  being 
acquainted  with  M.  Fortunat,  he  deemed  it  proper  to 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  245 

introduce  himself  without  delay.  "  My  name  is  Le- 
plaintre,  and  I  am  a  coal  merchant;"  said  he.  "  I  was 
recommended  to  call  on  you  by  my  friend  Bouscat,  who 
was  formerly  in  the  wine  trade." 

M.  Fortunat  bowed.  "  Pray  be  seated/'  was  his  re- 
ply. "  I  remember  your  friend  very  well.  If  I  am  not 
mistaken  I  gave  him  some  advice  with  reference  to  his 
third  failure." 

"  Precisely ;  and  it  is  because  I  find  myself  in  the 
same  fix  as  Bouscat  that  I  have  called  on  you.  Busi- 
ness is  very  bad,  and  I  have  notes,  to  a  large  amount 
overdue.,  so  that " 

"You  will  be  obliged  to  go  into  bankruptcy." 

"Alas!  I  fear  so." 

M.  Fortunat  already  knew  what  his  client  desired, 
but  it  was  against  his  principles  to  meet  these  proposi- 
tions more  than  half  way.  "  Will  you  state  your  case  ?  " 
said  he. 

The  coal  merchant  blushed.  It  was  hard  to  confess 
the  truth ;  but  the  effort  had  to  be  made.  "  This  is  my 
case,"  he  replied,  at  last.  "  Among  my  creditors  I 
have  several  enemies,  who  will  refuse  me  a  release. 
They  would  like  to  deprive  me  of  everything  I  possess. 
And  in  that  case,  what  would  become  of  me?  Is  it 
right  that  I  should  be  compelled  to  starve?" 

"  It  is  a  bad  outlook." 

"  It  is,  indeed,  monsieur ;  and  for  this  reason,  I  de- 
sire— if  possible,  if  I  can  do  so  without  danger — for  I 
am  an  honest  man,  monsieur — I  wish  to  retain  a  little 
property — secretly,  of  course,  not  for  myself,  by  any 
means,  but  I  have  a  young  wife  and " 

M.  Fortunat  took  compassion  on  the  man's  embar- 
rassment. "  In  short,"  he  interrupted,  "  you  wish  to 
conceal  a  part  of  your  capital  from  your  creditors  ?  " 


246  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

On  hearing  this  precise  and  formal  statement  of  his 
honorable  intentions,  the  coal-merchant  trembled.  His 
feelings  of  integrity  would  not  have  been  alarmed  by  a 
periphrasis,  but  this  plain  speaking  shocked  him.  "  Oh, 
monsieur ! "  he  protested,  "  I  would  rather  blow  my 
brains  out  than  defraud  my  creditors  of  a  single  penny 
that  was  rightfully  theirs.  What  I  am  doing  is  for 
their  interest,  you  understand.  I  shall  begin  business 
again  under  my  wife's  name;  and  if  I  succeed,  they 
shall  be  paid — yes,  monsieur,  every  sou,  with  interest. 
Ah!  if  I  had  only  myself  to  think  of,  it  would  be 
quite  different ;  but  I  have  two  children,  two  little  girls, 
so  that " 

"  Very  well/'  replied  M.  Fortunat.  "  I  should  sug- 
gest to  you  the  same  expedient  as  I  suggested  to  your 
friend  Bouscat.  But  you  must  gather  a  little  ready 
money  together  before  going  into  bankruptcy." 

"  I  can  do  that  by  secretly  disposing  of  a  part  of 
my  stock,  so " 

"  In  that  case,  you  are  saved.  Sell  it  and  put  the 
money  beyond  your  creditors'  reach." 

The  worthy  merchant  scratched  his  ear  in  evident 
perplexity.  "  Excuse  me,"  said  he.  "  I  had  thought 
of  this  plan ;  but  it  seemed  to  me — dishonorable — and — 
also  very  dangerous.  How  could  I  explain  this  de- 
crease in  my  stock?  My  creditors  hate  me.  If  they 
suspected  anything,  they  would  accuse  me  of  fraud, 
and  perhaps  throw  me  into  prison;  and  then " 

M.  Fortunat  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  When  I  give 
advice,"  he  roughly  replied,  "  I  furnish  the  means  of 
following  it  without  danger.  Listen  to  me  attentively. 
Let  us  suppose,  for  a  moment,  that  some  time  ago  you 
purchased,  at  a  very  high  figure,  a  quantity  of  stocks 
and  shares,  which  are  to-day  almost  worthless,  could 


THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS  247 

not  this  unfortunate  investment  account  for  the  ab- 
sence of  the  sum  which  you  wish  to  set  aside?  Your 
creditors  would  be  obliged  to  value  these  securities,  not 
at  their  present,  but  at  their  former  value." 

"  Evidently ;  but,  unfortunately,  I  do  not  possess  any 
such  securities." 

"  You  can  purchase  them." 

The  coal-merchant  opened  his  eyes  in  astonishment. 
"  Excuse  me/'  he  muttered,  "  I  don't  exactly  under- 
stand you." 

He  did  not  understand  in  the  least;  but  M.  Fortunat 
enlightened  him  by  opening  his  safe,  and  displaying  an 
enormous  bundle  of  stocks  and  shares  which  had 
flooded  the  country  a  few  years  previously,  and  ruined 
a  great  many  poor,  ignorant  fools  which  were  hunger- 
ing for  wealth;  among  them  were  shares  in  the  Tifila 
Mining  Company,  the  Berchem  Coal  Mines,  the  Green- 
land Fisheries,  the  Mutual  Trust  and  Loan  Associa- 
tion, and  so  on.  There  had  been  a  time  when  each  of 
these  securities  would  have  fetched  five  hundred  or  a 
thousand  francs  at  the  Bourse,  but  now  they  were  not 
worth  the  paper  on  which  they  were  printed. 

"  Let  us  suppose,  my  dear  sir,"  resumed  M.  For- 
tunat, "that  you  had  a  drawer  full  of  these  securi- 
ties  " 

But  the  other  did  not  allow  him  to  finish.  "  I  see," 
he  exclaimed ;  "  I  see — I  can  sell  my  stock,  and  put 
the  proceeds  in  my  pocket  with  perfect  safety.  There  is 
enough  to  represent  my  capital  a  thousand  times  over." 

And,  in  a  paroxysm  of  delight,  he  added : 

"  Give  me  enough  of  these  shares  to  represent  a  cap- 
ital of  one  hundred  and  twenty  thousand  francs;  and 
give  me  some  of  each  kind.  I  should  like  my  creditors 
to  have  a  variety." 


248  THE   COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

Thereupon  M.  Fortunat  counted  out  a  pile  of  these 
worthless  securities  as  carefully  as  if  he  had  been 
handling  bank-notes;  and  his  client  at  the  same  time 
drew  out  his  pocketbook. 

"  How  much  do  I  owe  you  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  Three  thousand  francs." 

The  honest  merchant  bounded  from  his  chair.  "  Three 
thousand  francs !  "  he  repeated.  "  You  must  be  jest- 
ing. That  trash  is  not  worth  a  louis." 

"  I  would  not  even  give  five  francs  for  it/'  rejoined 
M.  Fortunat,  coldly;  "but  it  is  true  that  I  don't  desire 
to  purchase  these  shares  in  my  creditors'  interest.  With 
you  it  is  quite  a  different  matter — this  trash,  as  you 
very  justly  call  it,  will  save  you  at  least  a  hundred 
thousand  francs.  I  ask  only  three  per  cent.,  which  is 
certainly  not  dear.  Still,  you  know,  I  don't  force  any 
one  to  purchase  them."  And,  in  a  terribly  significant 
tone,  he  added :  "  You  can  undoubtedly  buy  similar  se- 
curities on  better  terms ;  but  take  care  you  don't  arouse 
your  creditors'  suspicions  by  applying  elsewhere." 

"  He  would  betray  me,  the  scoundrel ! "  thought  the 
merchant.  And,  realizing  that  he  had  fallen  into  a  trap, 
"  Here  are  three  thousand  francs,"  he  sighed ;  "  but  at 
least,  my  dear  sir,  give  me  good  measure,  and  throw  in 
a  few  thousand  francs  more." 

The  coal-merchant  smiled  the  ghastly  smile  of  a  man 
who  sees  no  way  of  escape  from  imposition,  and  has, 
therefore,  resolved  to  submit  with  the  best  grace  possi- 
ble. But  M.  Fortunat's  gravity  did  not  relax.  He  gave 
what  he  had  promised — neither  more  nor  less — in  ex- 
change for  the  bank-notes,  and  even  gravely  exclaimed : 
"  See  if  the  amount  is  correct." 

His  client  pocketed  the  shares  without  counting 
them ;  but  before  leaving  the  room  he  made  his  estima- 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  249 

ble  adviser  promise  to  assist  him  at  the  decisive  mo- 
ment, and  help  him  to  prepare  one  of  those  clear  finan- 
cial statements  which  make  creditors  say :  "  This  is  an 
honest  man  who  has  been  extremely  unfortunate." 

M.  Fortunat  was  admirably  fitted  to  render  this  little 
service;  for  he  devoted  such  part  of  his  time  as  was 
not  spent  in  hunting  for  missing  heirs  to  difficult  liqui- 
dations, and  he  had  indeed  made  bankruptcy  a  specialty 
in  which  he  was  without  a  rival.  The  business  was  a 
remunerative  one,  thanks  to  the  expedient  he  had  re- 
vealed to  the  coal-merchant — an  expedient  which  is 
common  enough  nowadays,  but  of  which  he  might 
almost  be  called  the  inventor.  It  consisted  in  com- 
pelling the  persons  who  asked  for  his  advice  to  pur- 
chase worthless  shares  at  whatever  price  he  chose  to 
set  upon  them,  and  they  were  forced  to  submit,  under 
penalty  of  denunciation  and  exposure. 

The  client  who  followed  the  coal-merchant  proved 
to  be  a  simple  creature,  who  had  called  to  ask  for  some 
advice  respecting  a  slight  difficulty  between  himself  and 
his  landlord.  M.  Fortunat  speedily  disposed  of  him, 
and  then,  opening  the  door  leading  into  the  outer  office, 
he  called :  "  Cashier  !  " 

A  shabbily-dressed  man,  some  thirty-five  years  of 
age,  at  once  entered  the  private  sanctum,  carrying  a 
money-bag  in  one  hand  and  a  ledger  in  the  other. 

"  How  many  debtors  were  visited  yesterday  ? "  in- 
quired M.  Fortunat. 

"Two  hundred  and  thirty-seven." 

"What  was  the  amount  collected?" 

"  Eighty-nine  francs." 

M.  Isidore  Fortunat's  grimace  was  expressive 
of  satisfaction.  "Not  bad,"  said  he,  "not  at  all 
bad." 


250  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

Then  a  singular  performance  began.  M.  Fortunat 
called  over  the  names  of  his  debtors,  one  by  one,  and 
the  cashier  answered  each  name  by  reading  a  memor- 
andum written  against  it  on  the  margin  of  a  list  he 
held.  "  Such  a  one,"  said  the  agent,  "  and  such  a 

one — and  such "  Whereupon  the  cashier  replied: 

"  Has  paid  two  francs — was  not  at  home — paid  twenty 
sous — would  not  pay  anything/' 

How  did  it  happen  that  M.  Fortunat  had  so  many 
debtors?  This  question  can  be  easily  answered.  In 
settling  bankrupts'  estates  it  was  easy  for  him  to  pur- 
chase a  large  number  of  debts  which  were  considered 
worthless,  at  a  trifling  cost,  and  he  reaped  a  bountiful 
harvest  on  a  field  which  would  have  yielded  nothing  to 
another  person.  It  was  not  because  he  was  rigorous 
in  his  demands;  he  conquered  by  patience,  gentleness,( 
and  politeness,  but  also  by  unwearying  perseverance 
and  tenacity.  When  he  decided  that  a  debtor  was  to 
pay  him  a  certain  sum,  it  was  paid.  He  never  relaxed 
in  his  efforts.  Every  other  day  some  one  was  sent 
to  visit  the  debtor,  to  follow  him,  and  harass  him;  he 
was  surrounded  by  M.  Fortunat's  agents;  they  pur- 
sued him  to  his  office,  shop,  or  cafe — everywhere,  con- 
tinually, incessantly — and  always  with  the  most  perfect 
urbanity.  At  last  even  the  most  determined  suc- 
cumbed; to  escape  this  frightful  persecution,  they, 
somehow  or  other,  found  the  money  to  satisfy  M. 
Fortunat's  claim.  Besides  Victor  Chupin,  he  had  five 
other  agents  whose  business  it  was  to  visit  these  poor 
wretches.  A  list  was  assigned  to  each  man  every 
morning;  and  when  evening  came,  he  made  his 
report  to  the  cashier,  who  in  turn  reported 
to  his  employer.  This  branch  of  industry  added 
considerably  to  the  profits  of  M.  Fortunat's 


THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS  251 

other  business,  and  was  the  third  and  last  string  to 
his  bow. 

The  report  proceeded  as  usual,  but  it  was  quite  evi- 
dent that  M.  Fortunat's  thoughts  were  elsewhere.  He 
paused  each  moment  to  listen  eagerly  for  the  slightest 
sound  outside,  for  before  receiving  the  coal-merchant 
he  had  told  Victor  Chupin  to  run  to  the  Rue  de  Cour- 
celles  and  ask  M.  Casimir  for  news  of  the  Count  de 
Chalusse.  He  had  done  this  more  than  an  hour  before ; 
and  Victor  Chupin,  who  was  usually  so  prompt,  had 
not  yet  made  his  appearance. 

At  last,  however,  he  returned,  whereupon  M.  For- 
tunat  dismissed  the  cashier,  and  addressed  his  mes- 
senger :«  Well  ?"  he  asked. 

"  He  is  no  longer  living.  They  think  he  died  without 
a  will,  and  that  the  pretty  young  lady  will  be  turned 
out  of  the  house." 

This  information  agreed  so  perfectly  with  M.  For- 
tunat's  presentiments  that  he  did  not  even  wince,  but 
calmly  asked:  "Will  Casimir  keep  his  appointment?" 

"  He  told  me  that  he  would  endeavor  to  come,  and 
Fd  wager  a  hundred  to  one  that  he  will  be  there;  he 
would  travel  ten  leagues  to  put  something  good  into 
his  stomach." 

M.  Fortunat's  opinion  coincided  with  Chupin's. 
"Very  well,"  said  he.  "Only  you  were  a  long  time 
on  the  road,  Victor." 

"That's  true,  m'sieur;  but  I  had  a  little  matter  of 
my  own  to  attend  to — a  matter  of  a  hundred  francs,  if 
you  please." 

M.  Fortunat  knit  his  brows  angrily.  "  It's  only  right 
to  attend  to  business,"  said  he;  "but  you  think  too 
much  of  money,  Victor — altogether  too  much.  You 
are  insatiable." 


252  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

The  young  man  proudly  lifted  his  head,  and  with  an 
air  of  importance,  replied :  "  I  have  so  many  responsi- 
bilities— 

"  Responsibilities  ! — you  ?  " 

"Yes,  indeed,  m'sieur.  And  why  not?  My  poor, 
good  mother  hasn't  been  able  to  work  for  a  year,  and 
who  would  care  for  her  if  I  didn't?  Certainly  not  my 
father,  the  good-for-nothing  scamp,  who  squandered  all 
the  Duke  de  Sairmeuse's  money  without  giving  us  a 
sou  of  it.  Besides,  I'm  like  other  men,  I'm  anxious  to 
be  rich,  and  enjoy  myself.  I  should  like  to  ride  in  my 
carriage  like  other  people  do.  And  whenever  a  gamin, 
such  as  I  was  once,  opened  the  door  for  me,  I  should 
put  a  five-franc  piece  in  his  hand " 

He  was  interrupted  by  Madame  Dodelin,  the  worthy 
housekeeper,  who  rushed  Into  the  room  without  knock- 
ing, in  a  terrible  state  of  excitement.  "  Monsieur  !  " 
she  exclaimed,  in  the  same  tone  as  if  she  would 
have  called  "  Fire ! "  "  here  is  Monsieur  de  Val- 
orsay." 

M.  Fortunat  sprang  up  and  turned  extremely  pale. 
"  What  to  the  devil  brings  him  here  ? "  he  anxiously 
stammered.  "  Tell  him  that  I've  gone  out — tell  him — " 

But  it  was  useless,  for  the  marquis  at  that  very  mo- 
ment entered  the  room,  and  the  agent  could  only  dis- 
miss his  housekeeper  and  Chupin. 

M.  de  Valorsay  seemed  to  be  very  angry,  and  it 
looked  as  if  he  meant  to  give  vent  to  his  passion.  In- 
deed, as  soon  as  he  was  alone  with  M.  Fortunat,  he 
began :  "  So  this  is  the  way  you  betray  your  friends, 
Master  Twenty-per-Cent !  Why  did  you  deceive  me 
last  night  about  the  ten  thousand  francs  you  had  prom- 
ised me?  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  the  truth?  You 
knew  of  the  misfortune  that  had  befallen  M.  de  Cha- 


THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS  253 

lusse.  I  heard  of  it  first  scarcely  an  hour  ago  through 
a  letter  from  Madame  Leon." 

M.  Fortunat  hesitated  somewhat.  He  was  a  quiet 
man,  opposed  to  violence  of  any  kind ;  and  it  seemed  to 
him  that  M.  de  Valorsay  was  twisting  and  turning  his 
cane  in  a  most  ominous  manner.  ^  I  must  confess, 
Monsieur  le  Marquis/'  he  at  last  replied,  "that  I  had 
not  the  courage  to  tell  you  of  the  dreadful  misfortune 
which  had  befallen  us." 

«  How— us?  " 

"  Certainly.  If  you  lose  the  hope  of  several  millions, 
I  also  lose  the  amount  I  advanced  to  you,  forty  thou- 
sand francs — my  entire  fortune.  And  yet,  you  see  that 
I  don't  complain.  Do  as  I  do — confess  that  the  game 
is  lost." 

The  marquis  was  listening  with  an  air  of  suppressed 
wrath;  his  face  was  crimson,  there  was  a  dark  frown 
on  his  brow,  and  his  hands  were  clinched.  He  was  ap- 
parently furious  with  passion,  but  in  reality  he  was 
perfectly  self-possessed.  The  best  proof  that  can  be 
given  of  his  coolness  is  that  he  was  carefully  studying 
M.  Fortunat's  face,  and  trying  to  discover  the  agent's 
real  intentions  under  his  meaningless  words.  He  had 
expected  to  find  "  his  dear  extortioner "  exasperated 
by  his  loss,  cursing  and  swearing,  and  demanding  his 
money — but  not  at  all.  He  found  him  more  gentle  and 
calm,  colder  and  more  reserved  than  ever;  brimful  of 
resignation  indeed,  and  preaching  submission  to  the 
inevitable.  "  What  can  this  mean  ?  "  he  thought,  with 
an  anxious  heart.  "What  mischief  is  the  scoundrel 
plotting  now?  I'd  wager  a  thousand  to  one  that  he's 
forging  some  thunderbolt  to  crush  me."  And,  in  a 
haughty  tone,  he  said  aloud: 

"  In  a  word,  you  desert  me." 


254  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

With  a  deprecatory  gesture,  M.  Fortunat  exclaimed: 
"  I  desert  you,  Monsieur  le  Marquis !  What  have  I 
done  that  you  should  think  so  ill  of  me  ?  Alas !  cir- 
cumstances are  the  only  traitors.  I  shouldn't  like  to 
deprive  you  of  the  courage  you  so  much  need,  but,  hon- 
estly, it  would  be  folly  to  struggle  against  destiny.  How 
can  you  hope  to  succeed  in  your  plans  ?  Have  you  not 
resorted  to  every  possible  expedient  to  prolong  your 
apparently  brilliant  existence  until  the  present  time? 
Are  you  not  at  such  a  point  that  you  must  marry 
Mademoiselle  Marguerite  in  a  month's  time,  or  perish? 
And  now  the  count's  millions  are  lost !  If  I  might  be 
allowed  to  give  you  some  advice,  I  should  say,  fThe 
shipwreck  is  inevitable;  think  only  of  saving  yourself.' 
By  tact  and  shrewdness,  you  might  yet  save  something 
from  your  creditors.  Compromise  with  them.  And 
if  you  need  my  services,  here  I  am.  Go  to  Nice,  and 
give  me  a  power  of  attorney  to  act  for  you.  From  the 
debris  of  your  fortune,  I  will  undertake  to  guarantee 
you  a  competence  which  would  satisfy  many  an  ambi- 
tious man." 

The  marquis  laughed  sneeringly.  "  Excellent !  "  he 
exclaimed.  "You  would  rid  yourself  of  me  and  re- 
cover your  forty  thousand  francs  at  the  same  time.  A 
very  clever  arrangement." 

M.  Fortunat  realized  that  his  client  understood  him; 
but  what  did  it  matter  ?  "  I  assure  you "  he  began. 

But  the  marquis  silenced  him  with  a  contemptuous 
gesture.  "  Let  us  stop  this  nonsense,"  said  he.  "  We 
understand  each  other  better  than  that.  I  have  never 
made  any  attempt  to  deceive  you,  nor  have  I  ever  sup- 
posed that  I  had  succeeded  in  doing  so,  and  pray  do 
me  the  honor  to  consider  me  as  shrewd  as  yourself." 
And  still  refusing  to  listen  to  the  agent,  he  continued : 


THE   COUNT'S   MILLIONS  255 

"  If  I  have  come  to  you,,  it  is  only  because  the  case  is 
not  so  desperate  as  you  suppose.  I  still  hold  some  val- 
uable cards  which  you  are  ignorant  of.  In  your  opin- 
ion, and  every  one  else's,  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  is 
ruined.  But  I  know  that  she  is  still  worth  three  mil- 
lions, at  the  very  least." 

"  Mademoiselle    Marguerite  ?  " 

"Yes,  Monsieur  Twenty-per-Cent.  Let  her  become 
my  wife,  and  the  very  next  day  I  will  place  her  in  pos- 
session of  an  income  of  a  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
francs.  But  she  must  marry  me  first ;  and  this  scornful 
maiden  will  not  grant  me  her  hand  unless  I  can  con- 
vince her  of  my  love  and  disinterestedness." 

"  But  your  rival  ?  " 

M.  de  Valorsay  gave  a  nervous  start,  but  quickly 
controlled  himself.  "  He  no  longer  exists.  Read  this 
day's  Figaro,  and  you  will  be  edified.  I  have  no  rival 
now.  If  I  can  only  conceal  my  financial  embarrass- 
ment a  little  longer,  she  is  mine.  A  friendless  and 
homeless  girl  cannot  defend  herself  long  in  Paris — 
especially  when  she  has  an  adviser  like  Madame  Leon. 
Oh !  I  shall  win  her !  I  shall  have  her ! — she  is  a  neces- 
sity to  me.  Now  you  can  judge  if  it  would  be  wise  on 
your  part  to  deprive  me  of  your  assistance.  Would 
you  like  to  know  what  I  want?  Simply  this — the 
means  to  sustain  me  two  or  three  months  longer — some 
thirty  thousand  francs.  You  can  procure  the  money — 
will  you?  It  would  make,  in  all,  seventy  thousand 
francs  that  I  should  owe  you,  and  I  will  promise  to 
pay  you  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  if  I  suc- 
ceed— and  I  shall  succeed !  Such  profit  is  worth 
some  risk.  Reflect,  and  decide.  But  no  more  sub- 
terfuges, if  you  please.  Let  your  answer  be  plain  yes 


256  THE   COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

Without  a  second's  hesitation,  M.  Fortunat  replied, 
"  No." 

The  flush  on  the  marquis's  face  deepened,  and  his 
voice  became  a  trifle  harsher ;  but  that  was  all.  "  Con- 
fess, then,  that  you  have  resolved  to  ruin  me,"  he  said, 
"  You  refuse  before  you  have  heard  me  to  the  end. 
Wait,  at  least,  until  I  have  told  you  my  plans,  and 
shown  you  the  solid  foundation  which  my  hopes  rest 
upon." 

But  M.  Fortunat  had  resolved  to  listen  to  nothing. 
He  wished  for  no  explanations,  so  distrustful  was  he 
of  himself — so  much  did  he  fear  that  his  adventurous 
nature  would  urge  him  to  incur  further  risk.  He  was 
positively  afraid  of  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay's  elo- 
quence; besides,  he  knew  well  enough  that  the  person 
who  consents  to  listen  is  at  least  half  convinced.  "  Tell 
me  nothing,  monsieur,"  he  hastily  answered ;  "  it  would 
be  useless.  I  haven't  the  money.  If  I  had  given  you 
ten  thousand  francs  last  night,  I  should  have  been 
compelled  to  borrow  them  of  M.  Prosper  Bertomy. 
And  even  if  I  had  the  money,  I  should  still  say  '  Im- 
possible.' Every  man  has  his  system — his  theory,  you 
know.  Mine  is,  never  to  run  after  my  money.  With 
me,  whatever  I  may  lose,  I  regard  it  as  finally  lost;  I 
think  no  more  about  it,  and  turn  to  something  else. 
So  your  forty  thousand  francs  have  already  been  en- 
tered on  my  profit  and  loss  account.  And  yet  it  would 
be  easy  enough  for  you  to  repay  me,  if  you  would  fol- 
low my  advice  and  go  quietly  into  bankruptcy." 

"  Never !  "  interrupted  M.  de  Valorsay ;  "  never !  I 
do  not  wish  to  temporize,"  he  continued.  "  I  will  save 
all,  or  save  nothing.  If  you  refuse  me  your  help,  I 
shall  apply  elsewhere.  I  will  never  give  my  good 
friends,  who  detest  me,  and  whom  I  cordially  hate  in 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  257 

return,  the  delicious  joy  of  seeing  the  Marquis  de  Val- 
orsay  fall  step  by  step  from  the  high  position  he  has 
occupied.  I  will  never  truckle  to  the  men  whom  I  have 
eclipsed  for  fifteen  years.  No,  never !  I  would  rather 
die,  or  even  commit  the  greatest  crime !  " 

He  suddenly  checked  himself,  a  trifle  astonished,  per- 
haps, by  his  own  plain-speaking;  and,  for  a  moment, 
he  and  M.  Fortunat  looked  into  each  other's  eyes,  striv- 
ing to  divine  their  respective  secret  thoughts. 

The  marquis  was  the  first  to  speak.  "  And  so,"  said 
he,  in  a  tone  which  he  strove  to  make  persuasive,  but 
which  was  threatening  instead,  "  it  is  settled — your  de- 
cision is  final?" 

"  Final." 

"  You  will  not  even  condescend  to  listen  to  my  ex- 
planation ?  " 

"  It  would  be  a  loss  of  time/' 

On  receiving  this  cruel  reply,  M.  de  Valorsay  struck 
the  desk  such  a  formidable  blow  with  his  clenched  fist 
that  several  bundles  of  papers  fell  to  the  floor.  His 
anger  was  not  feigned  now.  "  What  are  you  plotting, 
then  ?  "  he  exclaimed ;  "  and  what  do  you  intend  to  do  ? 
What  is  your  object  in  betraying  me?  Take  care!  It 
is  my  life  that  I  am  going  to  defend,  and  as  truly  as 
there  is  a  God  in  heaven,  I  shall  defend  it  well.  A 
man  who  is  determined  to  blow  his  brains  out  if  he  is 
defeated,  is  a  terribly  dangerous  adversary.  Woe  to 
you,  if  I  ever  find  you  standing  between  me  and  the 
Count  de  Chalusse's  millions  !  " 

Every  drop  of  blood  had  fled  from  M.  Fortunat's 
face,  still  his  mien  was  composed  and  dignified.  "  You 
do  wrong  to  threaten  me,"  said  he.  "  I  don't  fear  you 
in  the  least.  If  I  were  your  enemy,  I  should  bring 
suit  against  you  for  the  forty  thousand  francs  you  owe 


258  THE   COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

me.  I  should  not  obtain  my  money,  of  course,  but  I 
could  shatter  the  tottering  edifice  of  your  fortune  by  a 
single  blow.  Besides,  you  forget  that  I  possess  a  copy 
of  our  agreement,  signed  by  your  own  hand,  and  that  I 
have  only  to  show  it  to  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  to 
give  her  a  just  opinion  of  your  disinterestedness.  Let 
us  sever  our  connection  now,  monsieur,  and  each  go 
his  own  way  without  reference  to  the  other.  If  you 
should  succeed  you  will  repay  me." 

Victory  perched  upon  the  agent's  banner,  and  it  was 
with  a  feeling  of  pride  that  he  saw  his  noble  client 
depart,  white  and  speechless  with  rage.  "  What  a  ras- 
cal that  marquis  is,"  he  muttered.  "  I  would  certainly 
warn  Mademoiselle  Marguerite,  poor  girl,  if  I  were  not 
so  much  afraid  of  him/' 


XIV, 

M.  CASIMIR,  the  deceased  Count  de  Chalusse's  valet, 
was  neither  better  nor  worse  than  most  of  his  fellows. 
Old  men  tell  us  that  there  formerly  existed  a  race  of 
faithful  servants,  who  considered  themselves  a  part 
of  the  family  that  employed  them,  and  who  unhesi- 
tatingly embraced  its  interests  and  its  ideas.  At  the 
same  time  their  masters  requited  their  devotion  by 
efficacious  protection  and  provision  for  the  future.  But 
such  masters  and  such  servants  are  nowadays  only 
found  in  the  old  melodramas  performed  at  the  Ambigu, 
in  "  The  Emigre/'  for  instance,  or  in  "  The  Last  of 
the  Chateauvieux."  At  present  servants  wander  from 
one  house  to  another,  looking  on  their  abode  as  a  mere 
inn  where  they  may  find  shelter  till  they  are  disposed 
for  another  journey.  And  families  receive  them  as 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  259 

transient,  and  not  unfrequently  as  dangerous,  guests, 
whom  it  is  always  wise  to  treat  with  distrust.  The  key 
of  the  wine-cellar  is  not  confided  to  these  unreliable 
inmates;  they  are  intrusted  with  the  charge  of  little 
else  than  the  children — a  practice  which  is  often  pro- 
ductive of  terrible  results. 

M.  Casimir  was  no  doubt  honest,  in  the  strict  sense 
of  the  word.  He  would  have  scorned  to  rob  his  master 
of  a  ten-sous  piece;  and  yet  he  would  not  have  hesi- 
tated in  the  least  to  defraud  him  of  a  hundred  francs, 
if  an  opportunity  had  presented  itself.  Vain  and  ra- 
pacious in  disposition,  he  consoled  himself  by  refusing 
to  obey  any  one  save  his  employer,  by  envying  him  with 
his  whole  heart,  and  by  cursing  fate  for  not  having 
made  him  the  Count  de  Chalusse  instead  of  the  Count 
de  Chalusse's  servant.  As  he  received  high  wages,  he 
served  passably  well ;  but  he  employed  the  best  part  of 
his  energy  in  watching  the  count.  He  scented  some 
great  family  secret  in  the  household,  and  he  felt  angry 
and  humiliated  that  this  secret  had  not  been  intrusted 
to  his  discretion.  And  if  he  had  discovered  nothing,  it 
was  because  M.  de  Chalusse  had  been  caution  personi- 
fied, as  Madame  Leon  had  declared. 

Thus  it  happened  that  when  M.  Casimir  saw  Made- 
moiselle Marguerite  and  the  count  searching  in  the 
garden  for  the  fragments  of  a  letter  destroyed  in  a 
paroxysm  of  rage  which  he  had  personally  witnessed, 
his  natural  curiosity  was  heightened  to  such  a  degree  as 
to  become  unendurable.  He  would  have  given  a 
month's  wages,  and  something  over,  to  have  known  the 
contents  of  that  letter,  the  fragments  of  which  were 
being  so  carefully  collected  by  the  count.  And  when  he 
heard  M.  de  Chalusse  tell  Mademoiselle  Marguerite 
that  the  most  important  part  of  the  letter  was  still  lack- 


260  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

ing,  and  saw  his  master  relinquish  his  fruitless  search, 
the  worthy  valet  vowed  that  he  would  be  more  skilful 
or  more  fortunate  than  his  master ;  and  after  diligent  ef- 
fort, he  actually  succeeded  in  recovering  five  tiny  scraps 
of  paper,  which  had  been  blown  into  the  shrubbery. 

They  were  covered  with  delicate  handwriting,  a 
lady's  unquestionably;  but  he  was  utterly  unable  to 
extract  the  slightest  meaning  from  them.  Neverthe- 
less, he  preserved  them  with  jealous  care,  and  was 
careful  not  to  say  that  he  had  found  them.  The  inco- 
herent words  which  he  had  deciphered  on  these  scraps 
of  paper  mixed  strangely  in  his  brain,  and  he  grew 
more  and  more  anxious  to  learn  what  connection  there 
was  between  this  letter  and  the  count's  attack.  This 
explains  his  extreme  readiness  to  search  the  count's 
clothes  when  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  told  him  to 
look  for  the  key  of  the  escritoire.  And  fortune  favored 
him,  for  he  not  only  found  the  key,  but  he  also  dis- 
covered the  torn  fragments  of  the  letter,  and  having 
crumpled  them  up  in  the  palm  of  his  hand,  he  con- 
trived to  slip  them  into  his  pocket.  Fruitless  dexterity  ! 
M.  Casimir  had  joined  these  scraps  to  the  fragments  he 
had  found  himself,  he  had  read  and  re-read  the  epistle, 
but  it  told  him  nothing;  or,  at  least,  the  information  it 
conveyed  was  so  vague  and  incomplete  that  it  height- 
ened his  curiosity  all  the  more.  Once  he  almost  de- 
cided to  give  the  letter  to  Mademoiselle  Marguerite, 
but  he  resisted  this  impulse,  saying  to  himself:  "Ah, 
no ;  I'm  not  such  a  fool !  It  might  be  of  use  to  her." 

And  M.  Casimir  had  no  desire  to  be  of  service  to  this 
unhappy  girl,  who  had  always  treated  him  with  kind- 
ness. He  hated  her,  under  the  pretence  that  she  was 
not  in  her  proper  place,  that  no  one  knew  who  or  what 
she  was,  and  that  it  was  absurd  that  he — he,  Casimir — 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  261 

should  be  compelled  to  receive  orders  from  her.  The 
infamous  slander  which  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  had 
overheard  on  her  way  home  from  church,  "  There  goes 
the  rich  Count  de  Chalusse's  mistress/'  was  M.  Casi- 
mir's  work.  He  had  sworn  to  be  avenged  on  this 
haughty  creature;  and  no  one  can  say  what  he  might 
have  attempted,  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  intervention 
of  the  magistrate.  Imperatively  called  to  order,  M. 
Casimir  consoled  himself  by  the  thought  that  the  mag- 
istrate had  intrusted  him  with  eight  thousand  francs 
and  the  charge  of  the  establishment.  Nothing  could 
have  pleased  him  better.  First  and  foremost,  it 
afforded  him  a  magnificent  opportunity  to  display  his 
authority  and  act  the  master,  and  it  also  enabled  him 
to  carry  out  his  compact  with  Victor  Chupin,  and  repair 
to  the  rendezvous  which  M.  Isidore  Fortunat  had  ap- 
pointed. 

Leaving  his  comrades  to  watch  the  magistrate's  oper- 
ations, he  sent  M.  Bourigeau  to  report  the  count's  death 
at  the  district  mayor's  office,  and  then  lighting  a  cigar 
he  walked  out  of  the  house,  and  strolled  leisurely  up 
the  Rue  de  Courcelles.  The  place  appointed  for  his 
meeting  with  M.  Fortunat  was  on  the  Boulevard 
Haussmann,  almost  opposite  Binder's,  the  famous  car- 
riage builder.  Although  it  was  rather  a  wine-shop 
than  a  restaurant,  a  capital  breakfast  could  be  obtained 
there  as  M.  Casimir  had  ascertained  to  his  satisfaction 
several  times  before.  "  Has  no  one  called  for  me  ?  " 
he  asked,  as  he  went  in. 

"  No  one." 

He  consulted  his  watch,  and  evinced  considerable 
surprise.  "  Not  yet  noon  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  I'm  in  ad- 
vance; and  as  that  is  the  case,  give  me  a  glass  of 
absinthe  and  a  newspaper." 


262  THE    COUNT'S   MILLIONS 

He  was  obeyed  with  far  more  alacrity  than  his  de- 
ceased master  had  ever  required  him  to  show,  and  he 
forthwith  plunged  into  the  report  of  the  doings  at  the 
Bourse,  with  the  eagerness  of  a  man  who  has  an  all- 
sufficient  reason  for  his  anxiety  in  a  drawer  at  home. 
Having  emptied  one  glass  of  absinthe,  he  was  about  to 
order  a  second,  when  he  felt  a  tap  on  the  shoulder,  and 
on  turning  round  he  beheld  M.  Isidore  Fortunat. 

In  accordance  with  his  wont,  the  agent  was  attired 
in  a  style  of  severe  elegance — with  gloves  and  boots 
fitting  him  to  perfection — but  an  unusually  winning 
smile  played  upon  his  lips.  "  You  see  I  have  been 
waiting  for  you,"  exclaimed  M.  Casimir. 

"I  am  late,  it's  true,"  replied  M.  Fortunat,  "but 
we  will  do  our  best  to  make  up  for  lost  time;  for,  I 
trust,  you  will  do  me  the  honor  of  breakfasting  with 
me?" 

"  Really,  I  don't  know  that  I  ought." 

"Yes,  yes,  you  must.  They  will  give  us  a  private 
room;  we  must  have  a  talk." 

It  was  certainly  not  for  the  pleasure  of  the  thing  that 
M.  Fortunat  cultivated  M.  Casimir's  acquaintance,  and 
entertained  him  at  breakfast.  M.  Fortunat,  who  was 
a  very  proud  man,  considered  this  connection  somewhat 
beneath  his  dignity;  but  at  first,  circumstances,  and 
afterward  interest,  had  required  him  to  overcome  his 
repugnance.  It  was  through  the  Count  de  Chalusse 
that  he  had  made  M.  Casimir's  acquaintance.  While 
the  count  was  employing  the  agent  he  had  frequently 
sent  his  valet  to  him  with  messages  and  letters.  Nat- 
urally, M.  Casimir  had  talked  on  these  occasions,  and 
the  agent  had  listened  to  him;  hence  this  superficial 
friendship.  Subsequently  when  the  marriage  contem- 
plated by  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay  was  in  course  of 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  263 

preparation,,  M.  Fortunat  had  profited  of  the  oppor- 
tunity to  make  the  count's  servant  his  spy;  and  it  had 
been  easy  to  find  a  pretext  for  continuing  the  acquaint- 
ance, as  M.  Casimir  was  a  speculator,  or  rather  a 
dabbler  in  stocks  and  shares.  So,  whenever  he  needed 
information,  M.  Fortunat  invited  M.  Casimir  to  break- 
fast, knowing  the  potent  influence  of  a  good  bottle  of 
wine  offered  at  the  right  moment.  It  is  needless  to  say 
that  he  exercised  uncommon  care  in  the  composition  of 
the  menu  on  a  day  like  this  when  his  future  course  de- 
pended, perhaps,  on  a  word  more  or  less. 

M.  Casimir's  eye  sparkled  as  he  took  his  seat  at  the 
table  opposite  his  entertainer.  The  crafty  agent  had 
chosen  a  little  room  looking  out  on  to  the  boulevard. 
Not  that  it  was  more  spacious  or  elegant  than  the 
others,  but  it  was  isolated,  and  this  was  a  very  great 
advantage;  for  every  one  knows  how  unsafe  and  per- 
fidious are  those  so-called  private  rooms  which  are 
merely  separated  from  each  other  by  a  thin  partition, 
scarcely  thicker  than  a  sheet  of  paper.  It  was  not  long 
before  M.  Fortunat  had  reason  to  congratulate  him- 
self on  his  foresight,  for  the  breakfast  began  with  a 
dish  of  shrimps,  and  M.  Casimir  had  not  finished  his 
twelfth,  washed  down  by  a  glass  of  chablis,  before  he 
declared  that  he  could  see  no  impropriety  in  confiding 
certain  things  to  a  friend. 

The  events  of  the  morning  had  completely  turned  his 
head;  and  gratified  vanity  and  good  cheer  excited  him 
to  such  a  degree  that  he  discoursed  with  unwonted 
volubility.  With  total  disregard  of  prudence,  he  talked 
with  inexcusable  freedom  of  the  Count  de  Chalusse, 
and  M.  de  Valorsay,  and  especially  of  his  enemy,  Made- 
moiselle Marguerite.  "For  it  is  she,"  he  exclaimed, 
rapping  on  the  table  with  his  knife — "  it  is  she  who  has 


264  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

taken  the  missing  millions !  How  she  did  it,  no  one 
will  ever  know,  for  she  has  not  an  equal  in  craftiness ; 
but  it's  she  who  has  stolen  them,  Tin  sure  of  it!  I 
would  have  taken  my  oath  to  that  effect  before  the 
magistrate,  and  I  would  have  proved  it,  too,  if  he 
hadn't  taken  her  part  because  she's  pretty — for  she  is 
devilishly  pretty." 

Even  if  M.  Fortunat  had  wished  to  put  in  a  word  or 
two,  he  could  have  found  no  opportunity.  But  his 
guest's  loquacity  did  not  displease  him;  it  gave  him 
an  opportunity  for  reflection.  Strange  thoughts  arose 
in  his  mind,  and  connecting  M.  Casimir's  affirmations 
with  the  assurances  of  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay,  he 
was  amazed  at  the  coincidence.  "  It's  very  singular !  " 
Tie  thought.  "  Has  this  girl  really  stolen  the  money  ? 
and  has  the  marquis  discovered  the  fact  through 
Madame  Leon,  and  determined  to  profit  by  the  theft? 
In  that  case,  I  may  get  my  money  back,  after  all!  I 
must  look  into  the  matter." 

A  partridge  and  a  bottle  of  Pomard  followed  the 
shrimps  and  chablis;  and  M.  Casimir's  loquacity  in- 
creased, and  his  voice  rose  higher  and  higher.  He 
wandered  from  one  absurd  story  to  another,  and  from 
slander  to  slander,  until  suddenly,  and  without  the 
slightest  warning,  he  began  to  speak  of  the  mysterious 
letter  which  he  considered  the  undoubted  cause  of  the 
count's  illness. 

At  the  first  word  respecting  this  missive,  M.  For- 
tunat started  violently.  "  Nonsense  !  "  said  he,  with  an 
incredulous  air.  "  Why  the  devil  should  this  letter 
have  had  such  an  influence?" 

"  I  don't  know.  But  it  is  certain — it  had."  And,  in 
support  of  his  assertion,  he  told  M.  Fortunat  how  the 
count  had  destroyed  the  letter  almost  without  reading 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  265 

it,  and  how  he  had  afterward  searched  for  the  frag- 
ments, in  order  to  find  an  address  it  had  contained. 
"And  Fm  quite  sure/'  said  the  valet,  "that  the  count 
intended  to  apply  to  you  for  the  address  of  the  person 
who  wrote  the  letter/' 

"  Are  you  sure  of  that  ?  " 

"  As  sure  as  I  am  of  drinking  Pomard ! "  exclaimed 
M.  Casimir,  draining  his  glass. 

Rarely  had  the  agent  experienced  such  emotion.  He 
did  not  doubt  but  what  this  missive  contained  the  solu- 
tion of  the  mystery.  "Were  the  scraps  of  this  letter 
found  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  have  them/'  cried  the  valet,  triumphantly.  (C  I 
have  them  in  my  pocket,  and,  what's  more,  I  have  the 
whole  of  them  !  " 

This  declaration  made  M.  Fortunat  turn  pale  with 
delight.  "  Indeed — indeed !  "  said  he ;  "  it  must  be  a 
strange  production." 

His  companion  pursed  up  his  lips  disdainfully.  "  May 
be  so,  may  be  not/'  he  retorted.  "  It's  impossible  to 
understand  a  word  of  it.  The  only  thing  certain  about 
it  is  that  it  was  written  by  a  woman." 

"Ah!" 

"  Yes,  by  a  former  mistress,  undoubtedly.  And,  nat- 
urally, she  asks  for  money  for  a  child.  Women  of  that 
class  always  do  so.  They've  tried  the  game  with  me 
more  than  a  dozen  times,  but  I'm  not  so  easily  caught." 
And  bursting  with  vanity,  he  related  three  or  four  love 
affairs  in  which,  according  to  his  own  account,  he  must 
have  played  a  most  ignoble  part. 

If  M.  Fortunat's  chair  had  been  a  gridiron,  heated  by 
an  excellent  fire,  he  could  not  have  felt  more  uncom- 
fortable. After  pouring  out  bumper  after' bumper  for 
his  guest,  he  perceived  that  he  had  gone  too  far,  and 


266  THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS 

that  it  would  not  be  easy  to  check  him.     "And  this 
letter?"  he  interrupted,  at  last 

"Well?" 

"  You  promised  to  let  me  read  it." 

"That's  true — that's  quite  true;  but  it  would  be  as 
well  to  have  some  mocha  first,  would  it  not?  What  if 
we  ordered  some  mocha,  eh?" 

Coffee  was  served,  and  when  the  waiter  had  closed 
the  door,  M.  Casimir  drew  the  letter,  the  scraps  of 
which  were  fixed  together,  from  his  pocket,  and  un- 
folded it,  saying :  "  Attention ;  Pm  going  to  read." 

This  did  not  suit  M.  Fortunat's  fancy.  He  would 
infinitely  have  preferred  perusing  it  himself;  but  it  is 
impossible  to  argue  with  an  intoxicated  man,  and  so 
M.  Casimir  with  a  more  and  more  indistinct  enuncia- 
tion read  as  follows:  "'  Paris,  October  14,  186—.'  So 
the  lady  lives  in  Paris,  as  usual.  After  this  she  puts 
neither  '  monsieur/  nor  '  my  friend/  nor  '  dear  count/ 
nothing  at  all.  She  begins  abruptly :  ( Once  before, 
many  years  ago,  I  came  to  you  as  a  suppliant.  You 
were  pitiless,  and  did  not  even  deign  to  answer  me. 
And  yet,  as  I  told  you,  I  was  on  the  verge  of  a  terrible 
precipice ;  my  brain  was  reeling,  vertigo  had  seized  hold 
of  me.  Deserted,  I  was  wandering  about  Paris,  home- 
less and  penniless,  and  my  child  was  starving ! ' ; 

M.  Casimir  paused  to  laugh.  "That's  like  all  the 
rest  of  them,"  he  exclaimed ;  "  that  is  exactly  like  all 
the  rest!  I've  ten  such  letters  in  my  drawer,  even 
more  imperative  in  their  demands.  If  you'll  come  home 
with  me  after  breakfast,  I'll  show  them  to  you.  We'll 
have  a  hearty  laugh  over  them ! " 

"  Let  us  finish  this  first." 

"Of  course."  And  he  resumed:  " '  If  I  had  been 
alone,  I  should  not  have  hesitated.  I  was  so  wretched 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  267 

that  death  seemed  a  refuge  to  me.  But  what  was  to 
become  of  my  child?  Should  I  kill  him,  and  destroy 
myself  afterward  ?  I  thought  of  doing  so,  but  I  lacked 
the  courage.  And  what  I  implored  you  in  pity  to  give 
me,  was  rightfully  mine.  I  had  only  to  present  myself 
at  your  house  and  demand  it.  Alas !  I  did  not  know 
that  then.  I  believed  myself  bound  by  a  solemn  oath, 
and  you  inspired  me  with  inexpressible  terror.  And 
still  I  could  not  see  my  child  die  of  starvation  before 
my  very  eyes.  So  I  abandoned  myself  to  my  fate,  and 
I  have  sunk  so  low  that  I  have  been  obliged  to  separate 
from  my  son.  He  must  not  know  the  shame  to  which 
he  owes  his  livelihood.  And  he  is  ignorant  even  of 
my  existence/  * 

M.  Fortunat  was  as  motionless  as  if  he  had  been 
turned  to  stone.  After  the  information  he  had  obtained 
respecting  the  count's  past,  and  after  the  story  told 
him  by  Madame  Vantrasson,  he  could  scarcely  doubt. 
"  This  letter,"  he  thought,  "  can  only  be  from  Mademoi- 
selle Hermine  de  Chalusse." 

However,  M.  Casimir  resumed  his  reading:  "'It 
I  apply  to  you  again,  if  from  the  depth  of  infamy  into 
which  I  have  fallen,  I  again  call  upon  you  for  help,  it 
is  because  I  am  at  the  end  of  my  resources — because, 
before  I  die,  I  must  see  my  son's  future  assured.  It 
is  not  a  fortune  that  I  ask  for  him,  but  sufficient  to  live 
upon,  and  I  expect  to  receive  it  from  you/  '; 

Once  more  the  valet  paused  in  his  perusal  of  the 
letter  to  remark:  "There  it  is  again— sufficient  to  live 
upon,  and  I  expect  to  receive  it  from  you  ! — Excellent ! 
Women  are  remarkable  creatures,  upon  my  word !  But 
listen  to  the  rest !  '  It  is  absolutely  necessary  that  I 
should  see  you  as  soon  as  possible.  Oblige  me,  there- 
fore, by  calling  to-morrow,  October  15th,  at  the  Hotel 


268  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

de  Homburg,  in  the  Rue  du  Helder.  You  will  ask  for 
Madame  Lucy  Huntley,  and  they  will  conduct  you  to 
me.  I  shall  expect  you  from  three  o'clock  to  six.  Come. 
I  implore  you,  come.  It  is  painful  to  me  to  add  that 
if  I  do  not  hear  from  you,  I  am  resolved  to  demand 
and  obtain — no  matter  what  may  be  the  consequences — 
the  means  which  I  have,  so  far,  asked  of  you  on  my 
bended  knees  and  with  clasped  hands.'  '' 

Having  finished  the  letter,  M.  Casimir  laid  it  on  the 
table,  and  poured  out  a  glassful  of  brandy,  which  he 
drained  at  a  single  draught.  "And  that's  all,"  he  re- 
marked. "  No  signature — not  even  an  initial.  It  was 
a  so-called  respectable  woman  who  wrote  that.  They 
never  sign  their  notes,  the  hussies!  for  fear  of  com- 
promising themselves,  as  I've  reason  to  know."  And 
so  saying,  he  laughed  the  idiotic  laugh  of  a  man  who 
has  been  drinking  immoderately.  "  If  I  had  time,"  he 
resumed,  "  I  should  make  some  inquiries  about  this 
Madame  Lucy  Huntley — a  feigned  name,  evidently.  I 

should  like  to  know But  what's  the  matter  with 

you,  Monsieur  Fortunat?  You  are  as  pale  as  death. 
Are  you  ill?" 

To  tell  the  truth,  the  agent  did  look  as  if  he  were  in- 
disposed. "  Thanks,"  he  stammered.  "  I'm  very  well, 
only  I  just  remembered  that  some  one  is  waiting  for 
me." 

"Who?" 

"  A  client." 

"  Nonsense !  "  rejoined  the  valet ;  "  make  some  ex- 
cuse; let  him  go  about  his  business.  Aren't  you  rich 
enough?  Pour  us  out  another  glass  of  wine;  it  will 
make  you  all  right  again." 

M.  Fortunat  complied,  but  he  performed  the  task  so 
awkwardly,  or,  rather,  so  skilfully,  that  he  drew  toward 


THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS  269 

him,  with  his  sleeve,  the  letter  which  was  lying  beside 
M.  Casimir' s  plate.  "  To  your  health/'  said  the  valet. 
"To  yours,"  replied  M.  Fortunat.  And  in  drawing 
back  the  arm  he  had  extended  to  chink  glasses  with  his 
guest,  he  caused  the  letter  to  fall  on  his  knees. 

M.  Casimir,  who  had  not  observed  this  successful 
manoeuvre,  was  trying  to  light  his  cigar;  and  while 
vainly  consuming  a  large  quantity  of  matches  in  the 
attempt,  he  exclaimed :  "  What  you  just  said,  my 
friend,  means  that  you  would  like  to  desert  me.  That 
won't  do,  my  dear  fellow !  You  are  going  home  with 
me;  and  I  will  read  you  some  love-letters  from  a 
woman  of  the  world.  Then  we  will  go  to  Mourloup's, 
and  play  a  game  of  billiards.  That's  the  place  to  enjoy 
one's  self.  You'll  see  Joseph,  of  the  Commarin  house- 
hold, a  splendid  comedian." 

"  Very  well ;  but  first  I  must  settle  the  score  here." 

"Yes,  pay." 

M.  Fortunat  rang  for  his  bill.  He  had  obtained 
more  information  than  he  expected;  he  had  the  letter 
in  his  pocket,  and  he  had  now  only  one  desire,  to  rid 
himself  of  M.  Casimir.  But  this  was  no  easy  task. 
Drunken  men  cling  tenaciously  to  their  friends;  and 
M.  Fortunat  was  asking  himself  what  strategy  he 
could  employ,  when  the  waiter  entered,  and  said: 
"  There's  a  very  light-complexioned  man  here,  who 
looks  as  if  he  were  a  huissier's  clerk.  He  wishes  to 
speak  with  you,  gentlemen." 

"Ah!  it's  Chupin!"  exclaimed  the  valet.  "He  is 
a  friend.  Let  him  come  in,  and  bring  us  another  glass. 
'  The  more  the  merrier,'  as  the  saying  goes." 

What  could  Chupin  want?  M.  Fortunat  had  no 
idea,  but  he  was  none  the  less  grateful  for  his  coming, 
being  determined  to  hand  this  troublesome  Casimir 


270  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

over  to  his  keeping.  On  entering  the  room  Chupin 
realized  the  valet's  condition  at  the  first  glance,  and  his 
face  clouded.  He  bowed  politely  to  M.  Fortunat,  but 
addressed  Casimir  in  an  extremely  discontented  tone. 
"It's  three  o'clock/'  said  he,  "and  I've  come,  as 
we  agreed,  to  arrange  with  you  about  the  count's 
funeral." 

These  words  had  the  effect  of  a  cold  shower-bath  on 
M.  Casimir.  "Upon  my  word,  I  had  forgotten — for- 
gotten entirely,  upon  my  word !  "  And  the  thought  of 
his  condition,  and  the  responsibility  he  had  accepted, 
coming  upon  him  at  the  same  time,  he  continued: 
"  Good  Heavens !  I'm  in  a  nice  state !  It  is  all  I  can 
do  to  stand,  What  will  they  think  at  the  house? 
.What  will  they  say?" 

M.  Fortunat  had  drawn  his  clerk  a  little  on  one  side. 
"  Victor,"  said  he,  quickly  and  earnestly,  "  I  must  go 
at  once.  Everything  has  been  paid  for;  but  in  case 
you  need  some  money  for  a  cab  or  anything  of  the 
sort,  here  are  ten  francs.  If  there's  any  you  don't  use, 
keep  it  for  yourself.  I  leave  this  fool  in  your  charge; 
take  care  of  him." 

The  sight  of  the  ten-franc  piece  made  Chupin's  face 
brighten  a  little.  "  Very  well,"  he  replied.  "  I  under- 
stand the  business.  I  served  my  apprenticeship  as  a 
'  guardian  angel  *  when  my  grandmother  kept  the  Poi- 
vriere."* 

"  Above  all,  don't  let  him  return  home  in  his  present 
state." 

"  Have  no  fears,  monsieur,  I  must  talk  business  with 
him,  and  so  I  shall  have  him  all  right  in  a  jiffy."  And 
as  M.  Fortunat  made  his  escape,  Chupin  beckoned  to 
the  waiter,  and  said: 

*  See  "  Lecoq  the  Detective  "  by  Emile  Gaboriau. 


THE   COUNT'S    MILLIONS  271 

"  Fetch  me  some  very  strong  coffee,  a  handful  of 
salt,  and  a  lemon.  There's  nothing  better  for  bringing 
a  drunken  man  to  his  senses/5 


XV. 


M.  FORTUNAT  left  the  restaurant,  almost  on  the  run, 
for  he  feared  that  he  might  be  pursued  and  overtaken 
by  M.  Casimir.  But  after  he  had  gone  a  couple  of 
hundred  paces,  he  paused,  not  so  much  to  take  breath, 
as  to  collect  his  scattered  wits ;  and  though  the  weather 
was  cold,  he  seated  himself  on  a  bench  to  reflect. 

Never  in  all  his  changeful  life  had  he  known  such 
intense  anxiety  and  torturing  suspense  as  he  had  just 
experienced  in  that  little  room  in  the  restaurant.  He 
had  longed  for  positive  information  and  he  had  ob- 
tained it;  but  it  had  upset  all  his  plans  and  annihilated 
all  his  hopes.  Imagining  that  the  count's  heirs  had 
been  lost  sight  of,  he  had  determined  to  find  them  and 
make  a  bargain  with  them,  before  they  learned  that 
they  were  worth  their  millions.  But  on  the  contrary, 
these  heirs  were  close  at  hand,  watching  M.  de  Cha- 
lusse,  and  knowing  their  rights  so  well  that  they  were 
ready  to  fight  for  them.  "  For  it  was  certainly  the 
count's  sister  who  wrote  the  letter  which  I  have  in 
my  pocket,"  he  murmured.  "  Not  wishing  to  receive 
him  at  her  own  home,  she  prudently  appointed  a  meet- 
ing at  a  hotel.  But  what  about  this  name  of  Huntley? 
Is  it  really  hers,  or  is  it  only  assumed  for  the  occasion  ? 
Is  it  the  name  of  the  man  who  enticed  her  from  home, 
or  is  it  the  name  given  to  the  son  from  whom  she  has 
separated  herself?" 

But  after  all  what  was  the  use  of  all  these  conjee- 


272  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

tures?  There  was  but  one  certain  and  positive  thing, 
and  this  was  that  the  money  he  had  counted  upon  had 
escaped  him;  and  he  experienced  as  acute  a  pang  as 
if  he  had  lost  forty  thousand  francs  a  second  time. 
Perhaps,  at  that  moment,  he  was  sorry  that  he  had 
severed  his  connection  with  the  marquis.  Still,  he  was 
not  the  man  to  despond,  however  desperate  his  plight 
might  appear,  without  an  attempt  to  better  his  situa- 
tion. He  knew  how  many  surprising  and  sudden 
changes  in  fortune  have  been  brought  about  by  some 
apparently  trivial  action.  "  I  must  discover  this  sis- 
ter," he  said  to  himself — "  I  must  ascertain  her  position 
and  her  plans.  If  she  has  no  one  to  advise  her,  I 
will  offer  my  services;  and  who  knows " 

A  cab  was  passing;  M.  Fortunat  hailed  it,  and  or- 
dered the  Jehu  to  drive  him  to  the  Rue  du  Helder, 
No.  43,  Hotel  de  Homburg. 

Was  it  by  chance  or  premeditation  that  this  estab- 
lishment had  received  the  name  of  one  of  the  gambling 
dens  of  Europe?  Perhaps  the  following  information 
may  serve  to  answer  the  question.  The  Hotel  de  Hom- 
burg was  one  of  those  flash  hostelries  frequented  by 
adventurers  of  distinction,  who  are  attracted  to  Paris 
by  the  millions  that  are  annually  squandered  there. 
Spurious  counts  and  questionable  Russian  princesses 
were  sure  to  find  a  cordial  welcome  there  with  princely 
luxury,  moderate  prices,  and — but  very  little  confidence. 
Each  person  was  called  by  the  title  which  it  pleased 
him  to  give  on  his  arrival — Excellency  or  Prince,  ac- 
cording to  his  fancy.  He  could  also  find  numerous  ser- 
vants carefully  drilled  to  play  the  part  of  old  family 
retainers,  and  carriages  upon  which  the  most  elaborate 
coat-of-arms  could  be  painted  at  an  hour's  notice. 
Nor  was  there  any  difficulty  whatever  in  immediately 


THE   COUNT'S    MILLIONS  273 

procuring  all  the  accessories  of  a  life  of  grandeur — all 
that  is  needful  to  dazzle  the  unsuspecting,  to  throw 
dust  in  people's  eyes,  and  to  dupe  one's  chance  ac- 
quaintances. All  these  things  were  provided  without 
delay,  by  the  month,  by  the  day  or  by  the  hour,  just 
as  the  applicant  pleased.  But  there  was  no  such  thing 
as  credit  there.  Bills  were  presented  every  evening, 
to  those  lodgers  who  did  not  pay  in  advance:  and  he 
who  could  not,  or  would  not,  settle  the  score,  even  if 
he  were  Excellency  or  Prince,  was  requested  to  depart 
at  once,  and  his  trunks  were  held  as  security. 

When  M.  Fortunat  entered  the  office  of  the  hotel, 
a  woman,  with  a  crafty  looking  face,  was  holding  a 
conference  with  an  elderly  gentleman,  who  had  a  black 
velvet  skullcap  on  his  head,  and  a  magnifying  glass  in 
his  hand.  They  applied  their  eyes  to  the  glass  in  turn, 
and  were  engaged  in  examining  some  very  handsome 
diamonds,  which  had  no  doubt  been  offered  in  lieu  of 
money  by  some  noble  but  impecunious  foreigner.  On 
hearing  M.  Fortunat  enter,  the  woman  looked  up. 

(( What  do  you  desire,  monsieur  ? "  she  inquired, 
politely. 

"  I  wish  to  see  Madame  Lucy  Huntley." 

The  woman  did  not  reply  at  first,  but  raised  her  eyes 
to  the  ceiling,  as  if  she  were  reading  there  the  list  of 
all  the  foreigners  of  distinction  who  honored  the  Hotel 
de  Homburg  by  their  presence  at  that  moment.  "  Lucy 
Huntley  !  "  she  repeated.  "  I  don't  recollect  that  name ! 
I  don't  think  there's  such  a  person  in  the  house — Lucy 
Huntley!  What  kind  of  a  person  is  she?" 

For  many  reasons  M.  Fortunat  could  not  answer. 
First  of  all,  he  did  not  know.  But  he  was  not  in  the 
least  disconcerted,  and  he  avoided  the  question  without 
the  slightest  embarrassment,  at  the  same  time  trying  to 


274  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

quicken  the  woman's  faulty  memory.  "The  person  I 
wished  to  see  was  here  on  Friday,  between  three  and 
six  in  the  afternoon;  and  she  was  waiting  for  a  visitor 
with  an  anxiety  which  could  not  possibly  have  escaped 
your  notice," 

This  detail  quickened  the  memory  of  the  man  with 
the  magnifying  glass — none  other  than  the  woman's 
husband  and  landlord  of  the  hotel.  "  Ah !  the  gentle- 
man is  speaking  of  the  lady  of  No.  2 — you  remember — 
the  same  who  insisted  upon  having  the  large  private 
room." 

"  To  be  sure,"  replied  the  wife ;  "  where  could  my 
wits  have  been  !  "  And  turning  to  M.  Fortunat :  "  Ex- 
cuse my  forgetfulness,"  she  added.  "The  lady  is  no 
longer  in  the  house;  she  only  remained  here  for  a  few 
hours." 

This  reply  did  not  surprise  M.  Fortunat — he  had  ex- 
pected it;  and  yet  he  assumed  an  air  of  the  utmost 
consternation.  "  Only  a  few  hours  !  "  he  repeated,  like 
a  despairing  echo. 

"  Yes,  monsieur.  She  arrived  here  about  eleven 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  with  only  a  large  valise  by  way 
of  luggage,  and  she  left  that  same  evening  at  eight 
o'clock." 

"  Alas  !  and  where  was  she  going  ?  " 

"She  didn't  tell  me." 

You  might  have  sworn  that  M.  Fortunat  was  about 
to  burst  into  tears.  "  Poor  Lucy !  "  said  he,  in  a  tragi- 
cal tone ;  "  it  was  for  me,  madame,  that  she  was  wait- 
ing. But  it  was  only  this  morning  that  I  received  her 
letter  appointing  a  meeting  here.  She  must  have  been 
in  despair.  The  post  can't  be  depended  on !  " 

The  husband  and  wife  simultaneously  shrugged  their 
shoulders,  and  the  expression  of  their  faces  unmistak- 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  275 

ably  implied:  "What  can  we  do  about  it?     It  is  no 
business  of  ours.    Don't  trouble  us/' 

But  M.  Fortunat  was  not  the  man  to  be  dismayed 
by  such  a  trifle. 

"  She  was  taken  to  the  railway  station,  no  doubt/' 
he  insisted. 

"  Really,  I  know  nothing  about  it." 

"  You  told  me  just  now  that  she  had  a  large  valise, 
so  she  could  not  have  left  your  hotel  on  foot.  She 
must  have  asked  for  a  vehicle.  Who  was  sent  to  fetch 
it?  One  of  your  boys?  If  I  could  find  the  driver  I 
should,  perhaps,  be  able  to  obtain  some  valuable  in- 
formation from  him." 

The  husband  and  wife  exchanged  a  whole  volume  of 
suspicions  in  a  single  glance.  M.  Isidore  Fortunat's 
appearance  was  incontestably  respectable,  but  they 
were  well  aware  that  those  strange  men  styled  detec- 
tives are  perfectly  conversant  with  the  art  of  dressing- 
to  perfection.  So  the  hotelkeeper  quickly  decided  on- 
his  course.  "  Your  idea  is  an  excellent  one,"  he  said! 
to  M.  Fortunat.  "  This  lady  must  certainly  have  taken; 
a  vehicle  on  leaving;  and  what  is  more,  it  must  have 
been  a  vehicle  belonging  to  the  hotel.  If  you  will  fol- 
low me,  we  will  make  some  inquiries  on  the  subject." 

And  rising  with  a  willingness  that  augured  well  for 
their  success,  he  led  the  agent  into  the  courtyard,  where 
five  or  six  vehicles  were  stationed,  while  the  drivers 
lounged  on  a  bench,  chatting  and  smoking  their  pipes. 
"  Which  of  you  was  employed  by  a  lady  yesterday 
evening  at  about  eight  o'clock?" 

"  What  sort  of  a  person  was  she  ?  " 

"  She  was  a  handsome  woman,  between  thirty  and 
forty  years'  old,  very  fair,  rather  stout,  and  dressed  in 
black.  She  had  a  large  Russia-leather  travelling-bag/* 


276  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

"  I  took  her/'  answered  one  of  the  drivers  promptly. 

M.  Fortunat  advanced  toward  the  man  with  open 
arms,  and  with  such  eagerness  that  it  might  have 
been  supposed  he  meant  to  embrace  him.  "  Ah,  my 
worthy  fellow ! "  he  exclaimed,  "  you  can  save  my 
life ! » 

The  driver  looked  exceedingly  pleased.  He  was 
thinking  that  this  gentleman  would  certainly  requite  his 
salvation  by  a  magnificent  gratuity.  "  What  do  you 
want  of  me  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Tell  me  where  you  drove  this  lady  ?  " 

"  I  took  her  to  the  Rue  de  Berry." 

"To  what  number?" 

"  Ah,  I  can't  tell.    I've  forgotten  it." 

But  M.  Fortunat  no  longer  felt  any  anxiety.  "  Very 
good,"  said  he.  "  You've  forgotten  it — that's  not  at 
all  strange.  But  you  would  know  the  house  again, 
wouldn't  you  ?  " 

"Undoubtedly  I  should." 

"Will  you  take  me  there?" 

"  Certainly,  sir.     This  is  my  vehicle." 

The  hunter  of  missing  heirs  at  once  climbed  inside; 
but  it  was  not  until  the  carriage  had  left  the  courtyard 
that  the  landlord  returned  to  his  office.  "That  man 
must  be  a  detective,"  he  remarked  to  his  wife. 

"  So  I  fancy." 

"  It's  strange  we're  not  acquainted  with  him.  He 
must  be  a  new  member  of  the  force." 

But  M.  Fortunat  was  quite  indifferent  as  to  what 
impression  he  had  left  behind  him  at  the  Hotel  de 
Homburg,  for  he  never  expected  to  set  foot  there 
again.  The  one  essential  thing  was  that  he  had  ob- 
tained the  information  he  wished  for,  and  even  a  de- 
scription of  the  lady,  and  he  felt  that  he  was  now 


THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS  277 

really  on  the  track.  The  vehicle  soon  reached  the  Rue 
de  Berry,  and  drew  up  in  front  of  a  charming  little 
private  house.  "  Here  we  are,  monsieur,"  said  the 
driver,  bowing  at  the  door. 

M.  Fortunat  sprang  nimbly  on  to  the  pavement,  and 
handed  five  francs  to  the  coachman,  who  went  off 
growling  and  swearing,  for  he  thought  the  reward  a 
contemptibly  small  one,  coming  as  it  did  from  a  man 
whose  life  had  been  saved,  according  to  his  own  con- 
fession. However,  the  person  the  Jehu  anathematized 
certainly  did  not  hear  him.  Standing  motionless  where 
he  had  alighted,  M.  Fortunat  scrutinized  the  house  in 
front  of  him  with  close  attention.  "  So  she  lives  here/' 
he  muttered.  "  This  is  the  place ;  but  I  can't  present 
myself  without  knowing  her  name.  I  must  make  some 
inquiries." 

There  was  a  wine-shop  some  fifty  paces  distant,  and 
thither  M.  Fortunat  hastened,  and  ordered  a  glass  of 
currant  syrup.  As  he  slowly  sipped  the  beverage,  he 
pointed  to  the  house  in  question,  with  an  air  of  well- 
assumed  indifference,  and  asked:  "Whom  does  that 
pretty  dwelling  belong  to  ?  " 

"To  Madame  Lia  d'Argeles,"  answered  the  land- 
lady. 

M.  Fortunat  started.  He  well  remembered  that  this 
was  the  name  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay  had  mentioned 
when  speaking  of  the  vile  conspiracy  he  had  planned. 
It  was  at  this  woman's  house  that  the  man  whom 
Mademoiselle  Marguerite  loved  had  been  disgraced! 
Still  he  managed  to  master  his  surprise,  and  in  a  light, 
frank  tone  he  resumed :  "  What  a  pretty  name !  And 
what  does  this  lady  do?" 

"What  does  she  do?    Why,  she  amuses  herself." 

M.  Fortunat  seemed  astonished.     "  Dash  it !  "  said 


278  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

he.  "She  must  amuse  herself  to  good  purpose  to 
have  a  house  like  that.  Is  she  pretty?" 

"That  depends  on  taste.  She's  no  longer  young,  at 
any  rate;  but  she  has  superb  golden  hair.  And,  oh! 
how  white  she  is — as  white  as  snow,  monsieur — as 
white  as  snow!  She  has  a  fine  figure  as  well,  and  a 
most  distinguished  bearing — pays  cash,  too,  to  the  very 
last  farthing/' 

There  could  no  longer  be  any  doubt.  The  portrait 
sketched  by  the  wine-vendor  fully  corresponded  with 
the  description  given  by  the  hotelkeeper  in  the  Rue 
de  Helder.  Accordingly,  M.  Fortunat  drained  his 
glass,  and  threw  fifty  centimes  on  the  counter.  Then, 
crossing  the  street,  he  boldly  rang  at  the  door  of 
Madame  d'Argeles's  house.  If  any  one  had  asked  him 
what  he  proposed  doing  and  saying  if  he  succeeded  in 
effecting  an  entrance,  he  might  have  replied  with  per- 
fect sincerity,  "  I  don't  know."  The  fact  is,  he  had 
but  one  aim,  one  settled  purpose  in  his  mind.  He  was 
obstinately,  furiously  resolved  to  derive  some  benefit, 
small  or  great,  from  this  mysterious  affair.  As  for 
the  means  of  execution,  he  relied  entirely  on  his  au- 
dacity and  sang-froid,  convinced  that  they  would  not 
fail  him  when  the  decisive  moment  came.  "  First  of 
all,  I  must  see  this  lady,"  he  said  to  himself.  "The 
first  words  will  depend  solely  upon  my  first  impressions. 
After  that,  I  shall  be  guided  by  circumstances." 

An  old  serving-man,  in  a  quiet,  tasteful  livery, 
opened  the  door,  whereupon  M.  Fortunat,  in  a  tone  of 
authority,  asked:  "Madame  Lia  d'Argeles?" 

"Madame  does  not  receive  on  Friday,"  was  the 
reply. 

With  a  petulant  gesture,  M.  Fortunat  rejoined :  "  All 
the  same,  I  must  speak  with  her  to-day.  It  is  on  a 


THE    COUNT'S   MILLIONS  279 

matter  of  the  greatest  importance.  Give  her  my  card.** 
So  saying,  he  held  out  a  bit  of  pasteboard,  on  which, 
below  his  name,  were  inscribed  the  words :  "  Liquida- 
tions. Settlements  effected  for  insolvent  parties." 

"Ah!  that's  a  different  thing/'  said  the  servant 
"Will  monsieur  take  the  trouble  to  follow  me?" 

M.  Fortunat  did  take  the  trouble;  and  he  was  con- 
ducted into  a  large  drawing-room  where  he  was  re- 
quested to  sit  down  and  await  madame's  coming.  Left 
to  himself,  he  began  an  inventory  of  the  apartment,  as 
a  general  studies  the  ground  on  which  he  is  about  to 
give  battle.  No  trace  remained  of  the  unfortunate 
scene  of  the  previous  night,  save  a  broken  candelabrum 
on  the  chimney-piece.  It  was  the  one  which  Pascal 
Ferailleur  had  armed  himself  with,  when  they  talked  of 
searching  him,  and  which  he  had  thrown  down  in  the 
courtyard,  as  he  left  the  house.  But  this  detail  did  not 
attract  M.  Fortunat's  attention.  The  only  thing  that 
puzzled  him  was  the  large  reflector  placed  above  the 
chandelier,  and  it  took  him  some  time  to  fathom  with 
what  object  it  was  placed  there.  Without  precisely  in- 
timidating him,  the  luxurious  appointments  of  the  house 
aroused  his  astonishment.  "  Everything  here  is  in 
princely  style,"  he  muttered,  "and  this  shows  that  all 
the  lunatics  are  not  at  Charenton  yet.  If  Madame 
d'Argeles  lacked  bread  in  days  gone  by,  she  does  so 
no  longer — that's  evident." 

Naturally  enough  this  reflection  led  him  to  wonder 
why  such  a  rich  woman  should  become  the  Marquis  de 
Valorsay's  accomplice,  and  lend  a  hand  in  so  vile  and 
cowardly  a  plot,  which  horrified  even  him — Fortunat. 
"  For  she  must  be  an  accomplice,"  he  thought. 

And  he  marvelled  at  the  freak  of  fate  which  had 
connected  the  unfortunate  man  who  had  been  sacrificed 


280  THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS 

with  the  unacknowledged  daughter,  and  the  cast-off 
sister,  of  the  Count  de  Chalusse.  A  vague  presenti- 
ment, the  mysterious  voice  of  instinct,  warned  him, 
moreover,  that  his  profit  in  the  affair  would  depend 
upon  the  antagonism,  or  alliance,  of  Mademoiselle  Mar- 
guerite and  Madame  d'Argeles.  But  his  meditations 
were  suddenly  interrupted  by  the  sound  of  a  discussion 
in  an  adjoining  room.  He  stepped  eagerly  forward, 
hoping  to  hear  something,  and  he  did  hear  a  man 
saying  in  a  coarse  voice :  "  What !  I  leave  an  interesting 
game,  and  lose  precious  time  in  coming  ,to  offer  you 
my  services,  and  you  receive  me  like  this !  Zounds ! 
madame,  this  will  teach  me  not  to  meddle  with  what 
doesn't  concern  me,  in  future.  So,  good-bye,  my  dear 
lady.  You'll  learn  some  day,  to  your  cost,  the  real 
nature  of  this  villain  of  a  Coralth  whom  you  now  de- 
fend so  warmly." 

This  name  of  Coralth  was  also  one  of  those  which 
were  engraven  upon  M.  Fortunat's  memory;  and  yet 
he  did  not  notice  it  at  the  moment.  His  attention  was 
so  absorbed  by  what  he  had  just  heard  that  he  could  not 
fix  his  mind  upon  the  object  of  his  mission;  and  he 
only  abandoned  his  conjectures  on  hearing  a  rustling 
of  skirts  against  the  panels  of  the  door  leading  into  the 
hall. 

The  next  moment  Madame  Lia  d'Argeles  entered 
the  room.  She  was  arrayed  in  a  very  elegant  dressing- 
gown  of  gray  cashmere,  with  blue  satin  trimmings,  her 
hair  was  beautifully  arranged,  and  she  had  neglected 
none  of  the  usual  artifices  of  the  toilette-table ;  still  any 
one  would  have  considered  her  to  be  over  forty  years 
of  age.  Her  sad  face  wore  an  expression  of  melan- 
choly resignation;  and  there  were  signs  of  recent  tears 
in  her  swollen  eyes,  surrounded  by  bluish  circles.  She 


THE   COUNTS    MILLIONS  281 

glanced  at  her  visitor,  and,  in  anything  but  an  encour- 
aging tone  exclaimed :  "  You  desired  to  speak  with  me, 
I  believe?" 

M.  Fortunat  bowed,  almost  disconcerted.  He  had 
expected  to  meet  one  of  those  stupid,  ignorant  young 
women,  who  make  themselves  conspicuous  at  the  after- 
noon promenade  in  the  Bois  de  Boulogne ;  and  he  found 
himself  in  the  presence  of  an  evidently  cultivated  and 
imperious  woman,  who,  even  in  her  degradation,  re- 
tained all  her  pride  of  race,  and  awed  him,  despite  all 
his  coolness  and  assurance.  "  I  do,  indeed,  madame, 
wish  to  confer  with  you  respecting  some  important 
interests,"  he  answered. 

She  sank  on  to  a  chair ;  and,  without  asking  her  vis- 
itor to  take  a  seat :  "  Explain  yourself,"  she  said, 
briefly. 

M.  Fortunat's  knowledge  of  the  importance  of  the 
game  in  which  he  had  already  risked  so  much  had 
already  restored  his  presence  of  mind.  He  had  only 
needed  a  glance  to  form  a  true  estimate  of  Madame 
d'Argeles's  character;  and  he  realized  that  it  would 
require  a  sudden,  powerful,  and  well-directed  blow  to 
shatter  her  composure.  "  I  have  the  unpleasant  duty 
of  informing  you  of  a  great  misfortune,  madame,"  he 
began.  "  A  person  who  is  very  dear  to  you,  and  who 
is  nearly  related  to  you,  was  a  victim  of  a  fright- 
ful accident  yesterday  evening  and  died  this  morn- 
ing." 

This  gloomy  preamble  did  not  seem  to  produce  the 
slightest  effect  on  Madame  d'Argeles.  "Whom  are 
you  speaking  of?"  she  coldly  asked. 

M.  Fortunat  assumed  his  most  solemn  manner  as  he 
replied :  "  Of  your  brother,  madame — of  the  Count  de 
Chalusse." 


282  THE   COUNTS   MILLIONS 

She  sprang  up,  and  a  convulsive  shudder  shook  her 
from  head  to  foot.  "  Raymond  is  dead !  "  she  faltered. 

"  Alas  !  yes,  madame.  Struck  with  death  at  the  very 
moment  he  was  repairing  to  the  appointment  you  had 
given  him  at  the  Hotel  de  Homburg." 

This  clever  falsehood,  which  was  not  entirely  one, 
would,  so  the  agent  thought,  be  of  advantage  to  him, 
since  it  would  prove  he  was  acquainted  with  previous 
events.  But  Madame  d'Argeles  did  not  seem  to  notice, 
or  even  to  hear  the  remark.  She  had  fallen  back  in 
her  arm-chair,  paler  than  death.  "  How  did  he  die  ?  " 
she  asked. 

"  From  an  attack  of  apoplexy  " 

"  My  God ! "  exclaimed  the  wretched  woman,  who 
now  suspected  the  truth;  "my  God,  forgive  me.  It 
was  my  letter  that  killed  him ! "  and  she  wept  as  if  her 
heart  were  breaking — this  woman  who  had  suffered  and 
wept  so  much. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  M.  Fortunat  was  moved 
with  sympathy;  he  always  evinced  a  respectful  sym- 
pathy for  the  woes  of  others;  but  in  the  present  in- 
stance, his  emotion  was  greatly  mitigated  by  the  satis- 
faction he  felt  at  having  succeeded  so  quickly  and  so 
completely.  Madame  d'Argeles  had  confessed  every- 
thing! This  was  indeed  a  victory,  for  it  must  be 
.admitted  that  he  had  trembled  lest  she  should  deny  all, 
;-and  bid  him  leave  the  house.  He  still  saw  many  diffi- 
culties between  his  pocket  and  the  Count  de  Chalusse's 
/money ;  but  he  did  not  despair  of  conquering  them  after 
such  a  successful  beginning.  And  he  was  muttering 
some  words  of  consolation,  when  Madame  d'Argeles 
suddenly  looked  up  and  said :  "  I  must  see  him — I  will 
see  him  once  more !  Come,  monsieur !  "  But  a  terri- 
ble memory  rooted  her  to  the  spot  and  with  a  despair- 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  283 

ing  gesture,  and  in  a  voice  quivering  with  anguish  she 
exclaimed : 

"  No,  no — I  cannot  even  do  that." 

M.  Fortunat  was  not  a  little  disturbed;  and  it  was 
with  a  look  of  something  very  like  consternation  that 
he  glanced  at  Madame  d'Argeles,  who  had  reseated  her- 
self and  was  now  sobbing  violently,  with  her  face 
hidden  on  the  arm  of  her  chair.  "  What  prevents  her  ?  " 
he  thought.  "  Why  this  sudden  terror  now  that  her 
brother  is  dead?  Is  she  unwilling  to  confess  that  she 
is  a  Chalusse?  She  must  make  up  her  mind  to  it, 
however,  if  she  wishes  to  receive  the  count's  property 
— and  she  must  make  up  her  mind  to  it,  for  my  sake, 
if  not  for  her  own." 

He  remained  silent,  until  it  seemed  to  him  that 
Madame  d'Argeles  was  calmer,  then :  "  Excuse  me, 
madame,"  he  began,  "  for  breaking  in  upon  your  very 
natural  grief,  but  duty  requires  me  to  remind  you  of 
your  interests." 

With  the  passive  docility  of  those  who  are  wretched, 
she  wiped  away  her  tears,  and  replied,  gently :  "  I  am 
listening,  monsieur." 

He  had  had  time  to  prepare  his  discourse.  "  First 
of  all,  madame,"  he  remarked,  "  I  must  tell  you  that  I 
was  the  count's  confidential  agent.  In  him  I  lose  a 
protector.  Respect  alone  prevents  me  from  saying  a 
friend.  He  had  no  secrets  from  me."  M.  Fortunat 
saw  so  plainly  that  Madame  d'Argeles  did  not  under- 
stand a  word  of  this  sentimental  exordium  that  he 
thought  it  necessary  to  add :  "  I  tell  you  this,  not  so 
much  to  gain  your  consideration  and  good-will,  as  to 
explain  to  you  how  I  became  acquainted  with  these 
matters  relating  to  your  family — how  I  became  aware 
of  your  existence,  for  instance,  which  no  one  else  sus- 


284  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

pected."  He  paused,  hoping  for  some  reply,  a  word, 
a  sign,  but  not  receiving  this  encouragement,  he  con- 
tinued :  "  I  must,  first  of  all,  call  your  attention  to  the 
peculiar  situation  of  M.  de  Chalusse,  and  to  the  cir- 
cumstances which  immediately  preceded  and  attended 
his  departure  from  life.  His  death  was  so  unexpected 
that  he  was  unable  to  make  any  disposition  of  his 
property  by  will,  or  even  to  indicate  his  last  wishes. 
This,  madame,  is  fortunate  for  you.  M.  de  Chalusse 
had  certain  prejudices  against  you,  as  you  are  aware. 
Poor  count.  He  certainly  had  the  best  heart  in  the 
world,  and  yet  hatred  with  him  was  almost  barbaric  in 
its  intensity.  There  can  be  no  doubt  whatever,  that 
he  had  determined  to  deprive  you  of  your  inheritance. 
With  this  intention  he  had  already  begun  to  convert 
his  estates  into  ready  money,  and  had  he  lived  six 
months  longer  you  would  not  have  received  a 
penny." 

With  a  gesture  of  indifference,  which  was  difficult  to 
explain  after  the  vehemence  and  the  threatening  tone 
of  her  letter,  Madame  d'Argeles  murmured : 

"Ah,  well!  what  does  it  matter?" 

"  What  does  it  matter?  "  repeated  M.  Fortunat.  "  I 
see,  madame,  that  your  grief  prevents  you  from  real- 
izing the  extent  of  the  peril  you  have  escaped.  M.  de 
Chalusse  had  other,  and  more  powerful  reasons  even 
than  his  hatred  for  wishing  to  deprive  you  of  your 
share  of  his  property.  He  had  sworn  that  he  would 
give  a  princely  fortune  to  his  beloved  daughter." 

For  the  first  time,  Madame  d'Argeles's  features  as- 
sumed an  expression  of  surprise.  "  What,  my  brother 
had  a  child?" 

"  Yes,  madame,  an  illegitimate  daughter,  Mademoi- 
selle Marguerite,  a  lovely  and  charming  girl  whom  I 


THE   COUNTS    MILLIONS  285 

had  the  pleasure  of  restoring  to  his  care  some  years 
ago.  She  has  been  living  with  him  for  six  months  or 
so;  and  he  was  about  to  marry  her,  with  an  enormous 
dowry,  to  a  nobleman  bearing  one  of  the  proudest 
names  in  France,  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay." 

The  name  shook  Madame  d'Argeles  as  if  she  had 
experienced  the  shock  of  an  electric  battery,  and  spring- 
ing to  her  feet,  with  flashing  eyes :  "  You  say  that  my 
brother's  daughter  was  to  marry  M.  de  Valorsay  ?  "  she 
asked. 

"  It  was  decided — the  marquis  adored  her." 

"  But  she — she  did  not  love  him — confess  that  she 
did  not  love  him." 

M.  Fortunat  did  not  know  what  to  reply.  The  ques- 
tion took  him  completely  by  surprise;  and  feeling  that 
his  answer  would  have  a  very  considerable  influence 
upon  what  might  follow,  he  hesitated. 

"  Will  you  answer  me  ?  "  insisted  Madame  d'Argeles, 
imperiously.  u  She  loved  another,  did  she  not  ?  " 

"To  tell  the  truth,  I  believe  she  did/'  the  agent 
stammered.  "But  I  have  no  proof  of  it,  madame." 

"  Ah !  the  wretch ! "  she  exclaimed  with  a  threaten- 
ing gesture;  "the  traitor!  the  infamous  scoundrel! 
Now  I  understand  it  all.  And  to  think  that  it  occurred 
in  my  house.  But  no ;  it  was  best  so,  I  can  still  repair 
everything."  And  darting  to  the  bell-rope,  she  pulled 
it  violently. 

A  servant  at  once  appeared.  "Job,"  she  said, 
"  hasten  after  Baron  Trigault — he  left  the  house  a  mo- 
ment ago — and  bring  him  back.  I  must  speak  with 
him.  If  you  do  not  overtake  him,  go  to  his  club,  to 
his  house,  to  the  houses  of  his  friends,  go  to  every 
place  where  there  is  any  chance  of  finding  him.  Make 
haste,  and  do  not  return  without  him." 


286  THE   COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

And  as  the  man  turned  to  obey,  she  added :  "  My 
carriage  must  be  in  the  courtyard.  Take  it." 

Meanwhile  M.  Fortunat's  expression  of  countenance 
had  undergone  a  marked  change.  "  Well !  "  thought 
he,  "I  have  just  made  a  mess  of  it!  M.  Valorsay  is 
unmasked ;  and  now,  may  I  be  hung,  if  he  ever  marries 
Mademoiselle  Marguerite.  Certainly,  I  do  not  owe 
much  to  the  scoundrel,  for  he  has  defrauded  me  of 
forty  thousand  francs,  but  what  will  he  say  when  he 
discovers  what  I've  done?  He  will  never  believe  me 
if  I  tell  him  that  it  was  an  involuntary  blunder,  and 
Heaven  only  knows  what  revenge  he  will  plan!  A 
man  of  his  disposition,  knowing  that  he  is  ruined,  is 
capable  of  anything!  So  much  the  worse  for  me. 
Before  night  I  shall  warn  the  commissary  of  police  in 
my  district,  and  I  shall  not  go  out  unarmed ! " 

The  servant  went  off,  and  Madame  d'Argeles  then 
turned  to  her  visitor  again.  But  she  seemed  literally 
transfigured  by  the  storm  of  passion  which  was  raging 
in  her  heart  and  mind;  her  cheeks  were  crimson,  and 
an  unwonted  energy  sparkled  in  her  eyes.  "  Let  us 
finish  this  business,"  she  said,  curtly ;  "  I  am  expecting 
some  one." 

M.  Fortunat  bowed  with  a  rather  pompous,  but  at 
the  same  time  obsequious  air.  "  I  have  only  a  few 
more  words  to  say/'  he  declared.  "  M.  de  Chalusse 
having  no  other  heir,  I  have  come  to  acquaint  you  with 
your  rights." 

"Very  good;  continue,  if  you  please." 

"You  have  only  to  present  yourself,  and  establish 
your  identity,  to  be  put  in  possession  of  your  brother's 
property." 

Madame  d'Argeles  gave  the  agent  a  look  of  mingled 
irony  and  distrust ;  and  after  a  moment's  reflection,  she 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  287; 

replied :  "  I  am  very  grateful  for  your  interest,  mon- 
sieur; but  if  I  have  any  rights,  it  is  not  my  intention 
to  urge  them/' 

It  seemed  to  M.  Fortunat  as  if  he  were  suddenly  fall- 
ing from  some  immense  height.  "  You  are  not  in 
earnest,"  he  exclaimed,  "or  you  are  ignorant  of  the 
fact  that  M.  de  Chalusse  leaves  perhaps  twenty  millions 
behind  him." 

"  My  course  is  decided  on,  monsieur ;  irrevocably  de- 
cided on/' 

"Very  well,  madame;  but  it  often  happens  that  the 
court  institutes  inquiries  for  the  heirs  of  large  for- 
tunes, and  this  may  happen  in  your  case." 

"  I  should  reply  that  I  was  not  a  member  of  the 
Chalusse  family,  and  that  would  end  it.  Startled  by 
the  news  of  my  brother's  death,  I  allowed  my  secret 
to  escape  me.  I  shall  know  how  to  keep  it  in  future." 

Anger  succeeded  astonishment  in  M.  Fortunat's 
mind.  "  Madame,  madame,  what  can  you  be  thinking 
of  ?  "  he  cried,  impetuously.  "  Accept — in  Heaven's 
name — accept  this  inheritance;  if  not  for  yourself,  for 
the  sake  of " 

In  his  excitement,  he  was  about  to  commit  a  terrible 
blunder.  He  saw  it  in  time,  and  checked  himself. 

"  For  the  sake  of  whom  ?  "  asked  Madame  d'Argeles, 
in  an  altered  voice. 

"  For  the  sake  of  Mademoiselle  Marguerite,  madame ; 
for  the  sake  of  this  poor  child,  who  is  your  niece.  The 
count  never  having  acknowledged  her^as  his  daughter, 
she  will  be  left  actually  without  bread,  while  her 
father's  millions  go  to  enrich  the  state." 

"  That  will  suffice,  monsieur ;  I  will  think  of  it.  And 
now,  enough ! " 

The  dismissal  was  so  imperious  that  M.  Fortunat 


288  THE   COUNT'S   MILLIONS 

bowed  and  went  off,,  completely  bewildered  by  this 
denouement.  "  She's  crazy ! "  he  said  to  himself. 
"Crazy  in  the  fullest  sense  of  the  word.  She  refuses 
the  count's  millions  from  a  silly  fear  of  telling  people 
that  she  belongs  to  the  Chalusse  family.  She  threat- 
ened her  brother,  but  she  would  never  have  carried  her 
threats  into  execution.  And  she  prefers  her  present 
position  to  such  a  fortune.  What  lunacy ! "  But,  al- 
though he  was  disappointed  and  angry,  he  did  not  by 
any  means  despair.  "  Fortunately  for  me/'  he  thought, 
"  this  proud  and  haughty  lady  has  a  son  somewhere 
in  the  world.  And  she'll  do  for  him  what  she  would 
not  consent  to  do  for  herself.  Through  her,  with  a 
little  patience  and  Victor  Chupin's  aid,  I  shall  succeed 
in  discovering  this  boy.  He  must  be  an  intelligent 
youth — and  we'll  see  if  he  surrenders  his  millions  as 
easily  as  his  mamma  does." 


XVI. 

IT  is  a  terrible  task  to  break  suddenly  with  one's  past, 
without  even  having  had  time  for  preparation;  to  re- 
nounce the  life  one  has  so  far  lived,  to  return  to  the 
starting  point,  and  begin  existence  anew;  to  abandon 
everything — the  position  one  has  gained,  the  work  one 
has  become  familiar  with,  every  fondly  cherished  hope, 
and  friend,  and  habit;  to  forsake  the  known  to  plunge 
into  the  unknown,  to  leave  the  certain  for  the  uncertain, 
and  desert  light  for  darkness ;  to  cast  one's  identity 
aside,  assume  a  strange  individuality,  become  a  living 
lie,  change  name,  position,  face,  and  clothes — in  one 
phrase,  to  cease  to  be  one's  self,  in  order  to  become 
some  one  else. 


THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS  289 

This  is  indeed,,  a  terrible  ordeal,  and  requires  an 
amount  of  resolution  and  energy  which  few  human 
beings  possess.  The  boldest  hesitate  before  such  a 
sacrifice,  and  many  a  man  has  surrendered  himself  to 
justice  rather  than  resort  to  this  last  extremity.  And 
yet  this  was  what  Pascal  Ferailleur  had  the  courage 
to  do,  on  the  morrow  of  the  shameful  conspiracy  that 
had  deprived  him  of  his  good  name.  When  his  mother's 
exhortations  and  Baron  Trigault' s  encouraging  words 
had  restored  his  wonted  clearness  of  perception,  the 
only  course  he  felt  disposed  to  pursue  was  to  disappear 
and  fly  from  the  storm  of  slander  and  contempt;  and 
then,  in  a  secure  hiding-place,  to  watch  for  the  time 
and  opportunity  of  rehabilitation  and  revenge. 

Madame  Ferailleur  and  her  son  made  all  needful 
arrangements.  "  I  shall  start  out  at  once/'  said  Pascal, 
"  and  before  two  hours  have  elapsed  I  shall  have  found 
a  modest  lodging,  where  we  must  conceal  ourselves  for 
the  present.  I  know  a  locality  that  will  suit  us,  and 
where  no  one  will  certainly  ever  think  of  looking  for 
us." 

"  And  I,"  asked  Madame  Ferailleur,  "  what  shall  I 
do  in  the  meantime  ?  " 

"You,  mother;  you  must,  at  once,  sell  all  that  we 
possess  here — everything — even  my  books.  You  will 
only  keep  such  of  our  linen  and  clothes  as  you  can  pack 
in  three  or  four  trunks.  We  are  undoubtedly  watched ; 
and  so  it  is  of  the  utmost  importance  that  every  one 
should  imagine  I  have  left  Paris,  and  that  you  are  going 
to  join  me." 

"And  when  everything  is  sold,  and  my  trunks  are 
ready?" 

'Then,  mother,  you  must  send  some  one  for  a  cab, 
and  order  the  driver  to  take  you  to  the  Western  Rail- 


290  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

way  Station,  where  you  will  have  the  trunks  removed 
from  the  cab  and  placed  in  the  baggage-room,,  as  if  you 
did  not  intend  to  leave  Paris  till  the  next  day." 

"  Very  good,  I  will  do  so ;  even  if  any  one  is  watch- 
ing us,  he  won't  be  likely  to  suspect  this  ruse.  But 
afterward?" 

"Afterward,  mother,,  you  must  go  to  the  waiting- 
room  upstairs,  and  you  will  find  me  there.  I  will  then 
take  you  to  the  rooms  I  shall  have  rented,  and  to- 
morrow we'll  send  a  messenger  with  the  receipt  the 
railway  people  will  give  you,  to  fetch  our  luggage  for 
us." 

Madame  Ferailleur  approved  of  this  plan,  deeming 
herself  fortunate  in  this  great  calamity  that  despair  had 
not  destroyed  her  son's  energy  and  resources  of  mind. 
"  Shall  we  retain  our  name,  Pascal  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no.  That  would  be  an  unpardonable  impru- 
dence/' 

"What  name  shall  we  take,  then?  I  must  know,  for 
they  may  ask  me  at  the  station." 

He  reflected  for  a  moment  and  then  said :  "  We'll 
take  your  maiden  name,  mother.  It  will  bring  us  good 
luck.  Our  new  lodgings  shall  be  hired  in  the  name  of 
the  Widow  Maumejan." 

They  talked  for  some  time  longer,  anxious  to  take 
every  precaution  that  prudence  could  suggest.  And 
when  they  were  convinced  that  they  had  forgotten 
nothing,  Madame  Ferailleur  suggested  that  Pascal 
should  start  off.  But  before  doing  so  he  had  a  sacred 
duty  to  perform.  "  I  must  warn  Marguerite,"  he  mut- 
tered. And  seating  himself  at  his  desk,  he  wrote  his 
beloved  a  concise  and  exact  account  of  the  events  which 
had  taken  place.  He  told  her  of  the  course  he  intended 
to  pursue;  and  promised  her  that  she  should  know  his 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  291 

new  abode  as  soon  as  he  knew  it  himself.  In  conclu- 
sion, he  entreated  her  to  grant  him  an  interview,  in 
which  he  could  give  her  the  full  particulars  of  the 
affair  and  acquaint  her  with  his  hopes.  As  for  excul- 
pating himself,  even  by  so  much  as  a  single  word — as 
for  explaining  the  snare  he  had  been  the  victim  of,  the 
idea  never  once  occurred  to  him.  He  was  worthy  of 
Mademoiselle  Marguerite;  he  knew  that  not  a  doubt 
would  disturb  the  perfect  faith  she  had  in  his  honor. 

Leaning  over  her  son's  shoulder,  Madame  Ferailleur 
read  what  he  had  written.  "  Do  you  intend  to  trust 
this  letter  to  the  post?"  she  inquired.  "Are  you  sure, 
perfectly  sure,  that  it  will  reach  Mademoiselle  Mar- 
guerite, and  not  some  one  else  who  might  use  it 
against  you  ?  " 

Pascal  shook  his  head.  "  I  know  how  to  insure  its 
safe  receipt,"  he  replied.  "  Some  time  ago,  Marguerite 
told  me  that  if  ever  any  great  peril  threatened  us,  I 
might  call  for  the  housekeeper  at  the  Chalusse  mansion 
and  intrust  my  message  to  her.  The  danger  is  suffi- 
ciently great  to  justify  such  a  course  in  the  present 
instance.  So  I  shall  pass  down  the  Rue  de  Courcelles, 
ask  to  see  Madame  Leon,  and  give  her  this  letter. 
Have  no  fear,  my  dear  mother/' 

As  he  spoke,  he  began  to  pack  all  the  legal  docu- 
ments which  had  been  confided  to  him  into  a  large  box, 
which  was  to  be  carried  to  one  of  his  former  friends, 
who  would  distribute  the  papers  among  the  people  they 
belonged  to.  He  next  made  a  small  bundle  of  the  few 
important  private  papers  and  valuables  he  possessed; 
and  then,  ready  for  the  sacrifice,  he  took  a  last  survey 
of  the  pleasant  home  where  success  had  smiled  so 
favorably  upon  his  efforts,  where  he  had  been  so  happy, 
and  where  he  had  cherished  such  bright  dreams  of  the 


292  THE   COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

future.  Overcome  by  a  flood  of  recollections,  the  tears 
sprang  to  his  eyes.  He  embraced  his  mother,  and  fled 
precipitately  from  the  house. 

"  Poor  child !  "  murmured  Madame  Ferailleur ;  "poor 
Pascal ! » 

Was  she  not  also  to  be  pitied  ?  This  was  the  second 
time  within  twenty  years  that  a  thunderbolt  had  fallen 
on  her  in  the  full  sunlight  of  happiness.  And  yet  now, 
as  on  the  day  following  her  husband's  death,  she  found 
in  her  heart  the  robust  energy  and  heroic  maternal 
constancy  which  enable  one  to  rise  above  every  mis- 
fortune. It  was  in  a  firm  voice  that  she  ordered  her 
servant  to  go  in  search  of  the  nearest  furniture  dealer, 
no  matter  which,  provided  he  would  pay  cash.  And 
when  the  man  arrived  she  showed  him  through  the 
rooms  with  stoical  calmness.  God  alone  knew  how 
intensely  she  was  suffering.  And  yet  while  she  was 
waiting  for  the  dealer,  each  piece  of  furniture  had  ac- 
quired an  extraordinary  value  in  her  eyes.  It  seemed 
to  her  as  if  each  object  were  a  part  of  herself,  and 
when  the  man  turned  and  twisted  a  chair  or  a  table  she 
almost  considered  it  a  personal  affront. 

The  rich,  who  are  accustomed  from  birth  to  the  lux- 
ury that  surrounds  them,  are  ignorant  of  the  terrible 
sufferings  which  attend  such  cases  as  these.  The  per- 
sons who  do  suffer  are  those  of  the  middle  classes,  not 
the  parvenus,  but  those  who  bid  fair  to  become  parvenus 
when  misfortune  overtook  them.  Their  hearts  bleed 
when  inexorable  necessity  deprives  them  of  all  the  little 
comforts  with  which  they  had  gradually  surrounded 
themselves,  for  there  is  not  an  object  that  does  not 
recall  a  long  ungratified  desire,  and  the  almost  infantile 
joy  of  possession.  What  happiness  they  felt  on  the 
day  when  they  purchased  that  large  arm-chair !  How 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  293 

many  times  they  had  gone  to  admire  those  velvet  cur- 
tains in  the  shop  windows  before  buying  them !  Those 
carpets  represented  months  of  self-denial.  And  that 
pretty  clock — ah !  they  had  fancied  it  would  only  herald 
the  flight  of  prosperous  and  pleasant  hours.  And  all 
these  things  the  dealer  handles,  and  shakes,  and  jeers 
at,  and  depreciates.  He  will  scarcely  condescend  to 
purchase.  Who  would  care  to  buy  such  trash?  He 
knows  that  the  owner  is  in  need  of  money,  and  he 
profits  by  this  knowledge.  It  is  his  business.  "  How 
much  did  this  cost  you?"  he  asks,  as  he  inspects  one 
piece  of  furniture  after  another. 

"  So  much." 

"  Well,  you  must  have  been  terribly  cheated." 

You  know  very  well  that  if  there  is  a  cheat  in  the 
world,  it  is  this  same  man;  but  what  can  you  say? 
Any  other  dealer  you  might  send  for  would  act  in  the 
same  way.  Now,  Madame  Ferailleur's  furniture  had 
cost  some  ten  thousand  francs ;  and,  although  it  was  no 
longer  new,  it  was  worth  at  least  a  third  of  that  sum. 
But  she  obtained  only  seven  hundred  and  sixty  francs 
for  it.  It  is  true,  however,  that  she  was  in  haste,  and 
that  she  was  paid  cash. 

Nine  o'clock  was  striking  when  her  trunks  were  at 
last  piled  on  a  cab,  and  she  called  out  to  the  driver: 
"  Take  me  to  the  Place  du  Havre — to  the  railway  sta- 
tion." Once  before,  when  defrauded  by  a  scoundrel, 
she  had  been  obliged  to  part  with  all  her  household 
treasures.  Once  before  she  had  left  her  home,  taking 
merely  the  wreck  of  her  fortune  with  her.  But  what 
a  difference  between  then  and  now! 

Then,  the  esteem  and  sympathy  of  all  who  knew  her 
was  hers,  and  the  admiring  praise  she  received  divested 
the  sacrifice  of  much  of  its  bitterness,  and  increased 


294  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

her  courage  two-fold.  Now,  she  was  flying  secretly, 
and  alone,  under  an  assumed  name,  trembling  at  the 
thought  of  pursuit  or  recognition — flying  as  a  criminal 
flies  at  thought  of  his  crime,  and  fear  of  punishment. 
She  had  far  less  suffered  on  the  day,  when,  with  her 
son  upon  her  knees,  she  journeyed  to  the  cemetery,  fol- 
lowing all  that  was  mortal  of  the  man  who  had  been 
her  only  thought,  her  love,  her  pride,  her  happiness, 
and  hope.  Though  crushed  by  the  sense  of  her  irre- 
parable loss,  she  had  not  rebelled  against  the  hand  that 
struck  her;  but  now  it  was  human  wickedness  that 
assailed  her  through  her  son,  and  her  suffering  was 
like  that  of  the  innocent  man  who  perishes  for  want  of 
power  to  prove  his  innocence.  Her  husband's  death 
had  not  caused  her  such  bitter  tears  as  her  son's  dis- 
honor. She  who  was  so  proud,  and  who  had  such 
good  reason  to  be  proud,  she  could  note  the  glances  of 
scorn  she  was  favored  with  as  she  left  her  home.  She 
heard  the  insulting  remarks  made  by  some  of  her 
neighbors,  who,  like  so  many  folks,  found  their  chief 
delight  in  other  people's  misfortunes. 

"  Crocodile  tears,"  some  had  exclaimed.  "  She  is 
going  to  meet  her  son;  and  with  what  he  has  stolen 
they  will  live  like  princes  in  America."  Rumor,  which 
enlarges  and  misrepresents  everything,  had,  indeed,  ab- 
surdly exaggerated  the  affair  at  Madame  d'Argeles's 
house.  It  was  reported  in  the  Rue  d'Ulm  that  Pascal 
had  spent  every  night  at  the  gaming  table  for  more 
than  five  years ;  and  that,  being  an  incomparable  trick- 
ster, he  had  stolen  millions. 

Meanwhile,  Madame  Ferailleur  was  approaching  the 
station.  The  cab  horse  soon  slackened  its  pace  to  climb 
the  acclivity  of  the  Rue  d' Amsterdam;  and  shortly 
afterward  the  vehicle  drew  up  in  the  courtyard  of  the 


K 


THE   COUNTS    MILLIONS  295 

railway  station.  Faithfully  observing  the  directions 
which  had  been  given  her,  the  worthy  woman  had  her 
trunks  taken  to  the  baggage-room,,  declaring  that  she 
should  not  leave  Paris  until  the  next  day,  whereupon 
she  received  a  receipt  from  the  man  in  charge  of  the 
room.  She  was  oppressed  by  vague  apprehensions,  and 
looked  closely  at  every  one  who  passed  her;  fearing 
the  presence  of  spies,  and  knowing  full  well  that  the 
most  profound  secrecy  could  alone  insure  the  success 
of  Pascal's  plans.  However,  she  did  not  see  a  single 
suspicious  looking  person.  Some  Englishmen — those 
strange  travellers,  who  are  at  the  same  time  so  foolishly 
prodigal  and  so  ridiculously  miserly — were  making  a 
great  hue  and  cry  over  the  four  sous  gratuity  claimed 
by  a  poor  commissionaire;  but  these  were  the  only 
persons  in  sight. 

Partially  reassured,  Madame  Ferailleur  hastily  as- 
cended the  staircase,  and  entered  the  large  waiting- 
room.  It  was  here  that  Pascal  had  promised  to  meet 
her;  but,  though  she  looked  round  on  all  sides,  she  did 
not  perceive  him.  Still,  this  delay  did  not  alarm  her 
much;  nor  was  it  at  all  strange,  since  Pascal  had 
scarcely  known  what  he  would  have  to  do  when  he  left 
the  house.  She  seated  herself  on  a  bench,  as  far  back 
in  the  shade  as  possible  and  gazed  sadly  at  the  ever- 
changing  throng,  when  all  of  a  sudden  she  was  startled 
by  a  man,  who  abruptly  paused  in  front  of  her.  This 
man  proved  to  be  Pascal.  But  his  hair  had  been 
closely  cut,  and  he  had  shaved  off  his  beard.  And 
thus  shorn,  with  his  smooth  face,  and  with  a  brown 
silk  neckerchief  in  lieu  of  the  white  muslin  tie  he 
usually  wore,  he  was  so  greatly  changed  that  for  an 
instant  his  own  mother  did  not  recognize  him.  "  Well  ?  " 
asked  Madame  Ferailleur,  as  she  realized  his  identity. 


296  THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS 

"  I  have  succeeded.  We  have  secured  such  rooms 
as  I  wished  for." 

"Where?" 

"  Ah ! — a  long  way  off,  my  poor  mother — many  a 
league  from  those  we  have  known  and  loved — in  a 
thinly  populated  part  of  the  suburbs,  on  the  Route 
de  la  Revolte,  just  outside  the  fortifications,  and  almost 
at  the  point  where  it  intersects  the  Asnieres  road.  You 
will  not  be  very  comfortable  there,  but  you  will  have 
the  pleasure  of  a  little  garden." 

She  rose,  summoning  all  her  energy.  "What  does 
it  matter  where  or  what  our  abode  is  ?  "  she  interrupted, 
with  forced  gayety.  "  I  am  confident  that  we  shall  not 
remain  there  long." 

But  it  seemed  as  if  her  son  did  not  share  her  hopes, 
for  he  remained  silent  and  dejected;  and  as  his  mother 
observed  him  closely,  she  fancied  by  the  expression  of 
his  eyes,  that  some  new  anxiety  had  been  added  to  all 
his  other  troubles. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  she  inquired,  unable  to  mas- 
ter her  alarm — "what  has  happened?" 

"  Ah !  a  great  misfortune !  " 

"My  God!  still  another?" 

"  I  have  been  to  the  Rue  de  Courcelles ;  and  I  have 
spoken  to  Madame  Leon." 

"What  did  she  say?" 

"The  Count  de  Chalusse  died  this  morning." 

Madame  Ferailleur  drew  a  long  breath,  as  if  greatly 
relieved.  She  was  certainly  expecting  to  hear  some- 
thing very  different,  and  she  did  not  understand  why 
this  death  should  be  a  great  misfortune  to  them  per- 
sonally. One  point,  however,  she  did  realize,  that  it 
was  imprudent,  and  even  dangerous,  to  carry  on  this 
conversation  in  a  hall  where  a  hundred  persons  were 


THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS  297 

passing  and  repassing  every  minute.  So  she  took  her 
son's  arm,  and  led  him  away,  saying :  "  Come,  let  us 
go." 

Pascal  had  kept  the  cab  which  he  had  been  using 
during  the  afternoon;  and  having  installed  his  mother 
inside,  he  got  in  himself,,  and  gave  his  new  address  to 
the  driver.  "  Now  tell  me  all,"  said  Madame  Ferail- 
leur. 

Poor  Pascal  was  in  that  state  of  mind  in  which  It 
costs  one  actual  suffering  to  talk;  but  he  wished  to 
mitigate  his  mother's  anxiety  as  much  as  possible ;  and 
moreover,  he  did  not  like  her  to  suppose  him  wanting 
in  endurance.  So,  with  a  powerful  effort,  he  shook 
off  the  lethargy  that  was  creeping  over  him,  and  in 
a  voice  loud  enough  to  be  heard  above  the  noise  of 
the  carriage  wheels,  he  began :  "  This  is  what  I  have 
done,  mother,  since  I  left  you.  I  remembered  that 
some  time  ago,  while  I  was  appraising  some  property, 
I  had  seen  three  or  four  houses  on  the  Route  de  la 
Revoke,  admirably  suited  to  our  present  wants.  Nat- 
urally I  went  there  first.  A  suite  of  rooms  was  vacant 
in  one  of  these  houses.  I  have  taken  it;  and  in  order 
that  nothing  may  interfere  with  the  liberty  of  my 
movements,  I  have  paid  six  months'  rent  in  advance. 
Here  is  the  receipt,  drawn  up  in  the  name  we  shall 
henceforth  bear."  So  saying,  he  showed  his  mother  a 
document  in  which  the  landlord  declared  that  he  had 
received  from  M.  Maumejan  the  sum  of  three  hundred 
and  fifty  francs  for  two  quarters'  rent,  eta  "  My  bar- 
gain concluded,"  he  resumed,  "I  returned  into  Paris, 
and  entered  the  first  furniture  shop  I  saw.  I  meant  to 
hire  the  necessary  things  to  furnish  our  little  home,  but 
the  dealer  made  all  sorts  of  objections.  He  trembled 
for  his  furniture,  he  wanted  a  sum  of  money  to  be 


298  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

deposited  as  security,  or  the  guarantee  of  three  re- 
sponsible business  men.  Seeing  this,  and  knowing  that 
I  had  no  time  to  lose,  I  preferred  to  purchase  such 
articles  as  were  absolutely  necessary.  One  of  the  con- 
ditions of  the  purchase  was  that  everything  should  be 
in  the  house  and  in  its  place  by  eleven  o'clock  to-night 
As  I  stipulated  in  writing  that  the  dealer  should  forfeit 
three  hundred  francs  in  case  he  failed  to  fulfil  his 
agreement,  I  can  rely  upon  his  punctuality;  I  confided 
the  key  of  our  lodgings  to  him,,  and  he  must  now  be 
there  waiting  for  us." 

So,  before  thinking  of  his  love,  and  Mademoiselle 
Marguerite,  Pascal  had  taken  the  necessary  measures 
for  the  execution  of  his  plan  to  regain  his  lost  honor. 
Madame  Ferailleur  had  scarcely  supposed  him  capable 
of  so  much  courage  and  firmness,  and  she  rewarded 
him  with  a  warm  pressure  of  the  hand.  Then,  as  he 
was  silent :  "  When  did  you  see  Madame  Leon,  then  ?  " 
she  asked. 

"  When  all  the  household  arrangements  were  com- 
pleted, mother.  On  leaving  the  furniture-shop,  I  found 
that  I  had  still  an  hour  and  a  quarter  before  me.  I 
could  defer  no  longer,  and  at  the  risk  o£l  obliging  you 
to  wait  for  me,  I  hastened  to  the  Rue  de  Courcelles." 

It  was  evident  that  Pascal  felt  extreme  embarrass- 
ment in  speaking  of  Mademoiselle  Marguerite.  There 
is  an  instinctive  delicacy  and  dislike  of  publicity  in  all 
deep  passion,  and  true  and  chaste  love  is  ever  averse 
to  laying  aside  the  veil  with  which  it  conceals  itself 
from  the  inquisitive.  Madame  Ferailleur  understood 
this  feeling;  but  she  was  a  mother,  and  as  such,  jealous 
of  her  son's  tenderness,  and  anxious  for  particulars 
concerning  this  rival  who  had  suddenly  usurped  her 
place  in  the  heart  where  she  had  long  reigned  supreme. 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  299 

She  was  also  a  woman — that  is  to  say,  distrustful  and 
suspicious  in  reference  to  all  other  women.  So,  with- 
out taking  pity  on  Pascal's  embarrassment,  she  urged 
him  to  continue. 

"  I  gave  the  driver  five  francs  on  condition  that  he 
would  hurry  his  horses,"  he  resumed,  "  and  we  were 
rattling  along  at  a  rapid  rate,  when,  suddenly,  near  the 
Hotel  de  Chalusse,  I  noticed  a  change  in  the  motion 
of  the  vehicle.  I  looked  out  and  saw  that  we  were 
driving  over  a  thick  layer  of  straw  which  had  been 
spread  across  the  street.  I  can  scarcely  describe  my 
feelings  on  seeing  this.  A  cold  perspiration  came  over 
me — I  fancied  I  saw  Marguerite  in  agony,  dying — far 
from  me,  and  calling  me  in  vain.  Without  waiting  for 
the  vehicle  to  stop,  I  sprang  to  the  ground,  and  was 
obliged  to  exercise  all  my  self-control  to  prevent  myself 
from  rushing  into  the  concierge's  lodge,  and  wildly 
asking :  6  Who  is  dying  here  ? '  But  an  unforeseen  diffi- 
culty presented  itself.  It  was  evident  that  I  ought  not 
to  go  in  person  to  inquire  for  Madame  Leon.  Whom 
could  I  send?  There  were  no  commissionaires  at  the 
street  corners,  and  nothing  would  have  induced  me  to 
confide  the  message  to  any  of  the  lads  in  the  neighbor- 
ing wine-shops.  Fortunately,  my  driver — the  same 
who  is  driving  us  now — is  an  obliging  fellow,  and  I 
intrusted  him  with  the  commission,  while  I  stood  guard 
over  his  horses.  Ten  minutes  later,  Madame  Leon  left 
the  house  and  came  to  meet  me.  I  knew  her  at  once, 
for  I  had  seen  her  a  hundred  times  with  Marguerite 
when  they  lived  near  the  Luxembourg;  and  having 
seen  me  pass  and  repass  so  often,  she  recognized  me  in 
spite  of  my  changed  appearance.  Her  first  words,  '  M. 
de  Chalusse  is  dead,'  relieved  my  heart  of  a  terrible 
weight.  I  could  breathe  again.  But  she  was  in  such 


300  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

haste  that  she  could  not  stop  to  tell  me  any  particulars. 
Still  I  gave  her  my  letter,  and  she  promised  me  a 
prompt  reply  from  Marguerite.  Everybody  will  be  up 
and  moving  about  the  house  to-night,  and  she  said  she 
could  easily  make  her  escape  for  a  few  moments.  So, 
at  half-past  twelve  to-night  she  will  be  at  the  little 
garden  gate,  and  if  I  am  promptly  at  hand,  I  shall 
have  a  reply  from  Marguerite." 

Madame  Ferailleur  seemed  to  be  expecting  some- 
thing more,  and  as  Pascal  remained  silent,  she  re- 
marked :  "  You  spoke  of  a  great  misfortune.  In  what 
does  it  consist?  I  do  not  perceive  it." 

With  an  almost  threatening  gesture,  and  in  a  gloomy 
voice,  he  answered :  "  The  misfortune  is  this :  if  it  had 
not  been  for  this  abominable  conspiracy,  which  has 
dishonored  me,  Marguerite  would  have  been  my  wife 
before  a  month  had  elapsed,  for  now  she  is  free,  abso- 
lutely free  to  obey  the  dictates  of  her  own  will  and 
heart." 

"  Then  why  do  you  complain  ?  " 

"  Oh,  mother !  don't  you  understand  ?  How  can  I 
marry  her  ?  Would  it  be  right  for  me  to  think  of  offer- 
ing her  a  dishonored  name?  It  seems  to  me  that  I 
should  be  guilty  of  a  most  contemptible  act — of  some- 
thing even  worse  than  a  crime — if  I  dared  speak  to 
her  of  my  love  and  our  future  before  I  have  crushed 
the  villains  who  have  ruined  me." 

Regret,  anger,  and  the  consciousness  of  his  present 
powerlessness  drew  from  him  tears  which  fell  upon 
Madame  Ferailleur's  heart  like  molten  lead;  but  she 
succeeded  in  concealing  her  agony.  "  All  the  more 
reason,"  she  answered,  almost  coldly,  "  why  you  should 
not  lose  a  second,  but  devote  all  your  energy  and  in- 
telligence to  the  work  of  justification." 


THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS  301 

"  Oh,  I  shall  have  my  revenge,  never  fear.  But  in 
the  meantime,  what  is  to  become  of  her?  Think, 
mother,  she  is  alone  in  the  world,  without  a  single 
friend.  It  is  enough  to  drive  one  mad !  " 

"  She  loves  you,  you  tell  me.  What  have  you  to 
fear?  Now  she  will  be  freed  from  the  persecutions 
of  the  suitor  they  intended  to  force  upon  her,  whom  she 
has  spoken  to  you  about — the  Marquis  de  Valorsay,  is 
it  not?" 

This  name  sent  Pascal's  blood  to  his  brain.  "  Ah, 
the  scoundrel !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  If  there  was  a  God 
in  heaven " 

"  Wretched  boy  !  "  interrupted  Madame  Ferailleur ; 
"you  blaspheme  when  Providence  has  already  inter- 
posed on  your  behalf.  And  who  suffers  most  at  this 
moment,  do  you  think  ? — you,  strong  in  your  innocence, 
or  the  marquis,  who  realizes  that  he  has  committed  an 
infamous  crime  in  vain?" 

The  sudden  stopping  of  the  cab  put  an  end  to  their 
conversation.  Leaving  the  Route  d'Asnieres,  the  driver 
had  turned  into  the  Route  de  la  Revolte,  and  had  drawn 
up  in  front  of  an  unpretentious  two-storied  house 
which  stood  entirely  alone.  "  We  have  arrived, 
mother,"  said  Pascal. 

A  man,  who  was  standing  on  the  threshold,  stepped 
forward  to  open  the  cab  door.  It  was  the  furniture- 
dealer.  "  Here  you  are  at  last,  M.  Maumejan,"  said 
he.  "  Come  in,  and  you'll  see  that  I've  strictly  fulfilled 
the  conditions  of  our  contract."  His  words  proved 
true.  He  was  paid  the  sum  stipulated,  and  went  away 
satisfied. 

"  Now,  my  dear  mother,"  said  Pascal,  "  allow  me  to- 
do  the  honors  of  the  poor  abode  I  have  selected." 

He  had  taken  only  the  ground  floor  of  this  humble 


302  THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS 

dwelling.  The  story  above,,  which  had  an  independenl 
entrance  and  staircase,  was  occupied  by  the  quiet  fam- 
ily of  the  owner.  Although  the  space  was  small,  the  archi- 
tect had  made  the  most  of  it.  He  had  divided  it  intc 
four  small  rooms,  separated  by  a  corridor;  and  the 
kitchen  looked  out  upon  a  little  garden  about  four 
times  as  large  as  an  ordinary  sheet.  The  furniture 
which  Pascal  had  purchased  was  more  than  plain;  but 
it  was  well  suited  to  this  humble  abode.  It  had  just 
been  brought  in_,  but  any  one  would  have  supposed  it 
had  been  in  its  place  for  a  couple  of  years. 

"  We  shall  be  very  comfortable  here/'  declared 
Madame  Ferailleur.  "  Yes,  very  comfortable.  By  to- 
morrow evening  you  won't  recognize  the  place.  I  have 
saved  a  few  trifles  from  the  wreck — some  curtains,  a 
couple  of  lamps,  a  clock — you'll  see.  It's  wonderful 
how  much  four  trunks  can  be  made  to  hold." 

When  his  mother  set  him  such  a  noble  example 
Pascal  would  have  blushed  to  allow  himself  to  be  out- 
done. He  very  quietly  explained  the  reasons  which 
had  influenced  him  in  choosing  these  rooms,  the  princi- 
pal one  being  that  there  was  no  concierge,  and  he  was 
therefore  assured  absolute  liberty  in  his  movements,  as 
well  as  entire  immunity  from  indiscreet  gossip.  "  Cer- 
tainly, my  dear  mother,"  he  added,  "  it  is  a  lonely  and 
unattractive  neighborhood;  but  you  will  find  all  the 
necessaries  of  life  near  at  hand.  The  owner  of  the 
house  lives  on  the  floor  above.  I  have  talked  with  the 
wife — they  seem  to  be  honest,  quiet  people — and  she 
will  pilot  you  about.  I  inquired  for  some  one  to  do 
the  heavy  work,  and  she  mentioned  a  poor  woman 
named  Vantrasson,  who  lives  in  the  neighborhood,  and 
who  is  anxious  to  obtain  employment.  They  were  to 
inform  her  this  evening,  and  you  will  see  her  to-mor- 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  303 

row.  And  above  all,  don't  forget  that  you  are  hence- 
forth Madame  Maumejan."  . 

Occupied  with  these  arrangements  for  the  future,  he 
was  still  talking,  when  Madame  Ferailleur,  drawing  out 
her  watch,  gently  remarked :  "  And  your  appointment  ? 
You  forget  that  the  cab  is  waiting  at  the  door." 

It  was  true;  he  had  forgotten  it.  He  caught  up  his 
hat,  hastily  embraced  his  mother,  and  sprang  into  the 
vehicle.  The  horses  were  almost  exhausted,  but  the 
driver  was  so  willing  that  he  found  a  means  of  making 
them  trot  as  far  as  the  Rue  de  Courcelles.  However, 
on  arriving  there,  he  declared  that  his  animals  and 
himself  could  endure  no  more,  and  after  receiving  the 
amount  due  to  him,  he  departed. 

The  air  was  chilly,  the  night  dark,  and  the  street 
deserted.  The  gloomy  silence  was  only  disturbed  at 
long  intervals  by  the  opening  or  shutting  of  a  door,  or 
by  the  distant  tread  of  some  belated  pedestrian.  Hav- 
ing at  least  twenty  minutes  to  wait,  Pascal  sat  down 
on  the  curbstone  opposite  the  Hotel  de  Chalusse,  and 
fixed  his  eyes  upon  the  building  as  if  he  were  striving 
to  penetrate  the  massive  walls,  and  see  what  was  pass- 
ing within.  Only  one  window — that  of  the  room  where 
the  dead  man  was  lying — was  lighted  up,  and  he  could 
vaguely  distinguish  the  motionless  form  of  a  woman 
standing  with  her  forehead  pressed  against  the  pane  of 
glass.  A  prey  to  the  indescribable  agony  which  seizes 
a  man  when  he  feels  that  his  life  is  at  stake — that  his 
future  is  about  to  be  irrevocably  decided — Pascal 
counted  the  seconds  as  they  passed  by.  He  found  it 
impossible  to  reflect,  to  deliberate,  to  decide  on  any 
plan  of  action.  He  forgot  the  tortures  he  had  endured 
during  the  last  twenty-four  hours;  Coralth,  Valorsay, 
Madame  d'Argeles,  the  baron,  no  longer  existed  for 


304  THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS 

liim.  He  forgot  his  loss  of  honor  and  position,  and  the 
disgrace  attached  to  his  name.  The  past  was  anni- 
hilated, as  it  were,,  and  he  could  think  of  no  future 
beyond  the  next  few  moments.  His  physical  condition 
undoubtedly  contributed  to  his  mental  weakness.  He 
had  taken  no  food  that  day,  and  he  was  faint  from 
want  of  nourishment.  He  had  come  without  an  over- 
coat, moreover,  and  the  cold  night  air  chilled  him  to 
the  bone.  There  was  a  strange  ringing  in  his  ears, 
and  a  mist  swam  before  his  eyes.  At  last  the  bell  at 
the  Beaujon  Hospital  tolled  the  appointed  hour,  and 
roused  him  from  his  lethargy.  He  seemed  to  hear  a 
voice  crying  to  him  in  the  darkness,  "  Up !  the  hour  has 
come ! " 

Trembling,  and  with  tottering  limbs,  he  dragged  him- 
self to  the  little  gate  opening  into  the  gardens  of  the 
Chalusse  mansion.  Soon  it  softly  opened,  and  Madame 
Leon  appeared.  Ah!  it  was  not  she  that  Pascal  had 
hoped  to  see.  Unfortunate  man !  He  had  been  listen- 
ing to  that  mysterious  echo  of  our  own  desires  which 
we  so  often  mistake  for  a  presentiment;  and  it  had 
whispered  in  his  heart :  "  Marguerite  herself  will 
come ! " 

With  the  candor  of  wretchedness,  he  could  not  refrain 
from  telling  Madame  Leon  the  hope  he  had  entertained. 
But,  on  hearing  him,  the  housekeeper  recoiled  with  a 
gesture  of  outraged  propriety,  and  reproachfully  ex- 
claimed :  "  What  are  you  thinking  of,  monsieur  ?  What ! 
could  you  suppose  that  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  would 
abandon  her  place  by  her  dead  father's  bedside  to  come 
to  a  rendezvous  ?  Ah !  you  should  think  better  of  her 
than  that,  the  dear  child ! " 

He  sighed  deeply,  and  in  a  scarcely  audible  voice,  he 
asked :  "  Hasn't  she  even  sent  me  a  reply  ?  " 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  305 

"  Yes,  monsieur,  she  has ;  and  although  it  is  a  great 
indiscretion  on  my  part,  I  bring  you  the  letter.  Here 
it  is.  Now,  good-evening.  I  must  go  at  once.  What 
would  become  of  me  if  the  servants  discovered  my 
absence,  and  found  that  I  had  gone  out  alone " 

She  was  hurrying  away,  but  Pascal  detained  her. 
"  Pray  wait  until  I  see  what  she  has  written/'  he  said, 
imploringly.  "I  shall  perhaps  be  obliged  to  send  her 
some  message  in  reply." 

Madame  Leon  obeyed,  though  with  rather  bad  grace, 
and  not  without  several  times  repeating :  "  Make 
haste ! " — while  Pascal  ran  to  a  street  lamp  near  by. 
It  was  not  a  letter  that  Marguerite  had  sent  him,  but  a 
short  note,  written  on  a  scrap  of  crumpled  paper, 
folded,  and  not  sealed.  It  was  written  in  pencil;  and 
the  handwriting  was  irregular  and  indistinct.  Still, 
by  the  flickering  light  of  the  gas,  Pascal  deciphered  the 
word  "Monsieur."  It  made  him  shudder.  "Mon- 
sieur ! "  What  did  this  mean  ?  In  writing  to  him  of 
recent  times,  Marguerite  had  always  said,  "  My  dear 
Pascal,"  or,  "My  friend." 

Nevertheless,  he  continued :  "  I  have  not  had  the 
courage  to  resist  the  entreaties  made  to  me  by  the  Count 
de  Chalusse,  my  father,  in  his  last  agony.  I  have  sol- 
emnly pledged  myself  to  become  the  wife  of  the  Mar- 
quis de  Valorsay. 

"  One  cannot  break  a  promise  made  to  the  dying.  I 
shall  keep  mine,  even  though  my  heart  break.  I  shall 
do  my  duty.  God  will  give  me  strength  and  courage. 
Forget  her  whom  you  loved.  She  is  now  the  betrothed 
of  another,  and  honor  commands  her  to  forget  your 
very  name.  Once  more,  and  for  the  last  time,  farewell ! 
If  you  love  me,  you  will  not  try  to  see  me  again.  It 
would  only  add  to  my  misery. 


306  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

"Think  as  though  she  were  dead — she  who  signs 
herself — MARGUERITE/' 

The  commonplace  wording  of  this  letter,  and  the 
mistakes  in  spelling  that  marred  it,  entirely  escaped 
Pascal's  notice.  He  only  understood  one  thing,  that 
Marguerite  was  lost  to  him,  and  that  she  was  on  the 
point  of  becoming  the  wife  of  the  vile  scoundrel  who 
had  planned  the  snare  which  had  ruined  him  at  the 
Hotel  d'Argeles.  Breathless,  despairing,  and  half 
crazed  with  rage,  he  sprang  toward  Madame  Leon. 
"  Marguerite,  where  is  she  ?  "  he  demanded,  in  a  hoarse, 
unnatural  voice ;  "  I  must  see  her !  " 

"  Oh !  monsieur,  what  do  you  ask  ?  Is  it  possible  ? 

Allow  me  to  explain  to  you "  But  the  housekeeper 

was  unable  to  finish  her  sentence,  for  Pascal  had  caught 
her  by  the  hands,  and  holding  them  in  a  vicelike  grip, 
he  repeated :  "  I  must  see  Marguerite,  and  speak  to 
her.  I  must  tell  her  that  she  has  been  deceived ;  I  will 
unmask  the  scoundrel  who " 

The  frightened  housekeeper  struggled  with  all  her 
might,  trying  her  best  to  reach  the  little  gate  which  was 
standing  open.  "  You  hurt  me  !  "  she  cried.  "  Are  you 
mad  ?  Let  me  go  or  I  shall  call  for  help  ?  "  And  twice 
indeed  she  shouted  in  a  loud  voice,  "  Help !  murder !" " 

But  her  cries  were  lost  in  the  stillness  of  the  night. 
If  any  one  heard  them,  no  one  came ;  still  they  recalled 
Pascal  to  a  sense  of  the  situation,  and  he  was  ashamed 
of  his  violence.  He  released  Madame  Leon,  and  his 
manner  suddenly  became  as  humble  as  it  had  been 
threatening.  "  Excuse  me,"  he  said,  entreatingly.  "  I 
am  suffering  so  much  that  I  don't  know  what  I'm 
doing.  I  beseech  you  to  take  me  to  Mademoiselle  Mar- 
guerite, or  else  run  and  beg  her  to  come  here.  I  ask 
but  a  moment." 


THE   COUNTS   MILLIONS  307 

Madame  Leon  pretended  to  be  listening  attentively; 
but,  in  reality,  she  was  quietly  manoeuvring  to  gain 
the  garden  gate.  Soon  she  succeeded  in  doing  so, 
whereupon,  with  marvellous  strength  and  agility,  she 
pushed  Pascal  away,  and  sprang  inside  the  garden,  clos- 
ing the  gate  after  her,  and  saying  as  she  did  so,  "  Be- 
gone, you  scoundrel !  " 

This  was  the  final  blow ;  and  for  more  than  a  minute 
Pascal  stood  motionless  in  front  of  the  gate,  stupefied 
with  mingled  rage  and  sorrow.  His  condition  was  not 
unlike  that  of  a  man  who,  after  falling  to  the  bottom 
of  a  precipice,  is  dragging  himself  up,  all  mangled  and 
bleeding,  swearing  that  he  will  yet  save  himself,  when 
suddenly  a  heavy  stone  which  he  had  loosened  in  his 
descent,  falls  forward  and  crushes  him.  All  that  he 
had  so  far  endured  was  nothing  in  comparison  with 
the  thought  that  Valorsay  would  wed  Marguerite.  Was 
such  a  thing  possible  ?  Would  God  permit  such  a  mon- 
strous iniquity?  "  No,  that  shall  never  be,"  he  mut- 
tered. "  I  will  murder  the  scoundrel  rather ;  and  after- 
ward justice  may  do  whatever  it  likes  with  me." 

He  experienced  that  implacable,  merciless  thirsting 
for  vengeance  which  does  not  even  recoil  before  the 
commission  of  a  crime  to  secure  satisfaction,  and  this 
longing  inflamed  him  with  such  energy  that,  although 
he  had  been  so  utterly  exhausted  a  few  moments  before 
— he  was  not  half  an  hour  in  making  his  way  back  to 
his  new  home.  His  mother,  who  was  waiting  for  him 
with  an  anxious  heart,  was  surprised  by  the  flush  on 
his  cheeks,  and  the  light  glittering  in  his  eyes.  "Ah, 
you  bring  good  news,"  she  exclaimed. 

His  only  answer  was  to  hand  her  the  letter  which 
Madame  Leon  had  given  him,  saying  as  he  did  so, 
"  Read." 


308  THE   COUNTS   MILLIONS 

Madame  Ferailleur's  eyes  fell  upon  the  words :  "Once 
more,  and  for  the  last  time,  farewell ! "  She  under- 
stood everything,  turned  very  pale,  and  in  a  trembling 
voice  exclaimed:  "Don't  grieve,  my  son;  the  girl  did 
not  love  you." 

"  Oh,  mother  !  if  you  knew " 

But  she  checked  him  with  a  gesture,  and  lifting  her 
head  proudly,  she  said :  "  I  know  what  it  is  to  love, 
Pascal — it  is  to  have  perfect  faith.  If  the  whole  world 
had  accused  your  father  of  a  crime,  would  a  single 
doubt  of  his  innocence  have  ever  entered  my  mind? 
This  girl  has  doubted  you.  They  have  told  her  that 
you  cheated  at  cards — and  she  has  believed  it.  You 
have  failed  to  see  that  this  oath  at  the  bedside  of  the 
dying  count  is  only  an  excuse/' 

It  was  true;  the  thought  had  not  occurred  to  Pascal. 
"  My  God  !  "  he  cried  in  agony ;  "  are  you  the  only  one 
who  believes  in  my  innocence?" 

"  Without  proofs — yes.  It  must  be  your  task  to 
obtain  these  proofs." 

"And  I  shall  obtain  them,"  he  rejoined,  in  a  tone 
of  determination.  "  I  am  strong  now  that  I  have  Mar- 
guerite's life  to  defend — for  they  have  deceived  her, 
mother,  or  she  would  never  have  given  me  up.  Oh ! 
don't  shake  your  head.  I  love  her,  and  so  I  trust  her." 


XVII. 

M.  ISIDORE  FORTUNAT  was  not  the  man  to  go  to  sleep 
over  a  plan  when  it  was  once  formed.  Whenever  he 
said  to  himself,  "  I'll  do  this,  or  that,"  he  did  it  as  soon 
as  possible — that  very  evening,  rather  than  the  next 
day.  Having  sworn  that  he  would  find  out  Madame 


THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS  309 

d'Argeles's  son,  the  heir  to  the  Count  de  Chalusse's 
millions,  it  did  not  take  him  long  to  decide  which  of 
his  agents  he  would  select  to  assist  him  in  this  difficult 
task.  Thus  his  first  care,  on  returning  home,  was  to 
ask  his  bookkeeper  for  Victor  Chupin's  address. 

"  He  lives  in  the  Faubourg  Saint-Denis/'  replied  the 
bookkeeper,  "at  No.  — ." 

"Very  well/7  muttered  M.  Fortunat;  "I'll  go  there 
as  soon  as  I  have  eaten  my  dinner/'  And,  indeed,  as 
soon  as  he  had  swallowed  his  coffee,  he  requested 
Madame  Dodelin  to  bring  him  his  overcoat,  and  half 
an  hour  later  he  reached  the  door  of  the  house  where 
his  clerk  resided. 

The  house  was  one  of  those  huge,  ungainly  struc- 
tures, large  enough  to  shelter  the  population  of  a  small 
village,  with  three  or  four  courtyards,  as  many  stair- 
cases as  there  are  letters  in  the  alphabet,  and  a  con- 
cierge who  seldom  remembers  the  names  of  the  tenants 
except  on  quarter-days  when  he  goes  to  collect  the  rent, 
and  at  New  Year,  when  he  expects  a  gratuity.  But,  by 
one  of  those  lucky  chances  (made  expressly  for  M. 
Fortunat,  the  porter  did  recollect  Chupin,  knew  him 
and  was  kindly  disposed  toward  him,  and  so  he  told  the 
visitor  exactly  how  and  where  to  find  him.  It  was  very 
simple.  He  had  only  to  cross  the  first  courtyard,  take 
staircase  D,  on  the  left-hand  side,  ascend  to  the  sixth 
floor,  go  straight  ahead,  etc.,  etc. 

Thanks  to  this  unusual  civility,  M.  Fortunat  did  not 
lose  his  way  more  than  five  times  before  reaching  the 
door  upon  which  was  fastened  a  bit  of  pasteboard 
bearing  Victor  Chupin's  name.  Noticing  that  a  bell- 
rope  hung  beside  the  door,  M.  Fortunat  pulled  it, 
whereupon  there  was  a  tinkling,  and  a  voice  called  out, 
"  Come  in ! "  He  complied,  and  found  himself  in  a 


310  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

small  and  cheaply  furnished  room,,  which  was,  how- 
ever, radiant  with  the  cleanliness  which  is  in  itself  a 
luxury.  The  waxed  floor  shone  like  a  mirror ;  the  fur- 
niture was  brilliantly  polished,  and  the  counterpane  and 
curtains  of  the  bed  were  as  white  as  snow.  What  first 
attracted  the  agent's  attention  was  the  number  of  super- 
fluous articles  scattered  about  the  apartment — some 
plaster  statuettes  on  either  side  of  a  gilt  clock,  an 
etagere  crowded  with  knickknacks,  and  five  or  six  pass- 
able engravings.  When  he  entered,  Victor  Chupin 
was  sitting,  in  his  shirt-sleeves,  at  a  little  table,  where, 
by  the  light  of  a  small  lamp,  and  with  a  zeal  that 
brought  a  flush  to  his  cheeks,  he  was  copying,  in  a 
very  fair  hand  a  page  from  a  French  dictionary.  Near 
the  bed,  in  the  shade,  sat  a  poorly  but  neatly  clad 
woman  about  forty  years  of  age,  who  was  knitting  in- 
dustriously with  some  long  wooden  needles. 

"M.  Victor  Chupin?"  inquired  M.  Fortunat. 

The  sound  of  his  voice  made  the  young  man  spring 
to  his  feet.  He  quickly  lifted  the  shade  from  his 
lamp,  and,  without  attempting  to  conceal  his  astonish- 
ment, exclaimed:  "M'sieur  Fortunat! — at  this  hour! 
Where's  the  fire  ?  "  Then,  in  a  grave  manner  that  con- 
trasted strangely  with  his  accustomed  levity :  "  Mother/'" 
said  he,  "  this  is  one  of  my  patrons,  M?sieur  Fortunat 
— you  know — the  gentleman  whom  I  collect  for/' 

The  knitter  rose,  bowed  respectfully,  and  said :  "  I 
hope,  sir,  that  you  are  pleased  with  my  son,  and  that 
he's  honest." 

"  Certainly,  madame,"  replied  the  agent ;  "  certainly. 
Victor  is  one  of  my  best  and  most  reliable  clerks." 

"Then  I'm  content,"  said  the  woman,  reseating  her- 
self. 

Chupin  also  seemed  delighted.     "This  is  my  good 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  311 

mother,  sir/'  said  he.  "  She's  almost  blind  now ;  but, 
in  less  than  six  months  she  will  be  able  to  stand  at  her 
window  and  see  a  pin  in  the  middle  of  the  street,  so 
the  physician  who  is  treating  her  eyes  promised  me; 
then  we  shall  be  all  right  again.  But  take  a  seat,  sir. 
May  we  venture  to  offer  you  anything?5' 

Although  his  clerk  had  more  than  once  alluded  to  his 
responsibilities,  M.  Fortunat  was  amazed.  He  mar- 
velled at  the  perfume  of  honesty  which  exhaled  from 
these  poor  people,  at  the  dignity  of  this  humble  woman, 
and  at  the  protecting  and  respectful  affection  evinced 
by  her  son — a  young  man,  whose  usual  tone  of  voice 
and  general  behavior  had  seemed  to  indicate  that  he 
was  decidedly  a  scapegrace,  "  Thanks,  Victor,"  he  re- 
plied, "  I  won't  take  any  refreshment.  I've  just  left 
the  dinner-table.  I've  come  to  give  you  my  instruc- 
tions respecting  a  very  important  and  very  urgent  mat- 
ter/' 

Chupin  at  once  understood  that  his  employer  wished 
for  a  private  interview.  Accordingly,  he  took  up  the 
lamp,  opened  a  door,  and,  in  the  pompous  tone  of  a  rich 
banker  who  is  inviting  some  important  personage  to 
enter  his  private  room,  he  said:  "Will  you  be  kind 
enough  to  step  into  my  chamber,  m'sieur?" 

The  room  which  Chupin .  so  emphatically  denomi- 
nated his  "  chamber  "  was  a  tiny  nook,  extraordinarily 
clean,  it  is  true,  but  scantily  furnished  with  a  small  iron 
bedstead,  a  trunk,  and  a  chair.  He  offered  the  chair 
to  his  visitor,  placed  the  lamp  on  the  trunk,  and  seated 
himself  on  the  bed,  saying  as  he  did  so:  "This  is 
scarcely  on  so  grand  a  scale  as  your  establishment, 
m'sieur;  but  I  am  going  to  ask  the  landlord  to  gild 
the  window  of  my  snuff-box." 

M.  Fortunat  was  positively  touched.    He  held  out  his 


312  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

hand  to  his  clerk  and  exclaimed:  "You're  a  worthy 
fellow,  Chupin." 

"  Nonsense,  m'sieur,  one  does  what  one  can ;  but, 
zounds !  how  hard  it  is  to  make  money  honestly !  If 
my  good  mother  could  only  see,  she  would  help  me 
famously,  for  there  is  no  one  like  her  for  work! 
But  you  see  one  can't  become  a  millionaire  by  knit- 
ting!" 

"  Doesn't  your  father  live  with  you  ?  " 
Chupin's  eyes  gleamed  angrily.  "  Ah !  don't  speak 
of  that  man  to  me,  m'sieur ! "  he  exclaimed,  "  or  I 
shall  hurt  somebody."  And  then,  as  if  he  felt  it  neces- 
sary to  explain  and  excuse  his  vindictive  exclamation, 
he  added:  "My  father,  Polyte  Chupin,  is  a  good-for- 
nothing  scamp.  And  yet  he's  had  his  opportunities. 
First,  he  was  fortunate  enough  to  find  a  wife  like  my 
mother,  who  is  honesty  itself — so  much  so  that  she 
was  called  Toinon  the  Virtuous  when  she  was  young. 
She  idolized  him,  and  nearly  killed  herself  by  working 
to  earn  money  for  him.  And  yet  he  abused  her  so 
much,  and  made  her  weep  so  much,  that  she  has  be- 
come blind.  But  that's  not  all.  One  morning  there 
came  to  him — I  don't  know  whence  or  how — enough 
money  for  him  to  have  lived  like  a  gentleman.  I  be- 
lieve it  was  a  munificent  reward  for  some  service  he 
had  rendered  a  great  nobleman  at  the  time  when  my 
grandmother,  who  is  now  dead,  kept  a  dramshop  called 
the  Poivriere.  Any  other  man  would  have  treasured 
that  money,  but  not  he.  What  he  did  was  to  carouse 
day  and  night,  and  all  the  while  my  poor  mother  was 
working  her  fingers  to  the  bone  to  earn  food  for  me. 
She  never  saw  a  penny  of  all  his  money;  and,  indeed, 
once  when  she  asked  him  to  pay  the  rent,  he  beat  her 
so  cruelly  that  she  was  laid  up  in  bed  for  a  week. 


THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS  313 

However,  monsieur,  you  can  very  readily  understand 
that  when  a  man  leads  that  kind  of  life,  he  speedily 
comes  to  the  end  of  his  banking  account.  So  my 
father  was  soon  without  a  penny  in  his  purse,  and  then 
he  was  obliged  to  work  in  order  to  get  something  to 
eat,  and  this  didn't  suit  him  at  all.  But  when  he  didn't 
know  where  to  find  a  crust  he  remembered  us;  he 
sought  us  out,  and  found  us.  Once  I  lent  him  a  hun- 
dred sous;  the  next  day  he  came  for  forty  more,  and 
the  next  for  three  francs;  then  for  five  francs  again. 
And  so  it  was  every  day :  e  Give  me  this,  or  give  me 
that!'  At  last  I  said,  'Enough  of  this,  the  bank's 
closed!'  Then,  what  do  you  think  he  did?  He 
watched  the  house  until  he  saw  me  go  out;  then  he 
came  in  with  a  second-hand  furniture-dealer,  and  tried 
to  sell  everything,  pretending  that  he  was  the  master. 
And  my  poor,  dear  mother  would  have  allowed  him  to 
do  it.  Fortunately,  I  happened  to  come  in  again.  Let 
him  sell  my  furniture?  Not  I.  I  would  sooner  have 
been  chopped  in  pieces !  I  went  and  complained  to 
the  commissary  of  police,  who  made  my  father  leave 
the  house,  and  since  then  we've  lived  in  peace." 

Certainly  this  was  more  than  sufficient  to  explain  and 
excuse  Victor  Chupin's  indignation.  And  yet  he  had 
prudently  withheld  the  most  serious  and  important 
cause  of  his  dislike.  What  he  refrained  from  telling 
was  that  years  before,  when  he  was  still  a  mere  child, 
without  will  or  discernment,  his  father  had  taken  him 
from  his  mother,  and  had  started  him  down  that  terri- 
ble descent,  which  inevitably  leads  one  to  prison  or  the 
gallows,  unless  there  be  an  almost  miraculous  inter- 
position on  one's  behalf.  This  miracle  had  occurred  in 
Chupin's  case ;  but  he  did  not  boast  of  it. 

"  Come,  come ! "  said  M.   Fortunat,  "  don't  worry 


314  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

too  much  about  it.  A  father's  a  father  after  all,  and 
yours  will  undoubtedly  reform  by  and  by." 

He  said  this  as  he  would  have  said  anything  else, 
out  of  politeness  and  for  the  sake  of  testifying  a 
friendly  interest;  but  he  really  cared  no  more  for  this 
information  concerning  the  Chupin  family  than  the 
grand  Turk.  His  first  emotion  had  quickly  vanished; 
and  he  was  beginning  to  find  these  confidential  dis- 
closures rather  wearisome.  "  Let  us  get  back  to  busi- 
ness/' he  remarked ;  "  that  is  to  say,  to  Casimir.  What 
did  you  do  with  the  fool  after  my  departure  ?  " 

"  First,  monsieur,  I  sobered  him ;  which  was  no  easy 
task.  The  greedy  idiot  had  converted  himself  into  a 
wine-cask!  At  last,  however,  when  he  could  talk  as 
well  as  you  and  I,  and  walk  straight,  I  took  him  back 
to  the  Hotel  de  Chalusse." 

"  That  was  right.  But  didn't  you  have  some  business 
to  transact  with  him?" 

"  That's  been  arranged,  monsieur ;  the  agreement  has 
been  signed.  The  count  will  have  the  best  of  funerals 
— the  finest  hearse  out,  with  six  horses,  twenty-four 
mourning  coaches — a  grand  display,  in  fact.  It  will  be 
worth  seeing." 

M.  Fortunat  smiled  graciously.  cfThat  ought  to 
bring  you  a  handsome  commission,"  he  said,  benignly. 

Employed  by  the  job,  Chupin  was  the  master  of  his 
own  time,  free  to  utilize  his  intelligence  and  industry  as 
he  chose,  but  M.  Fortunat  did  not  like  his  subordinates 
to  make  any  money  except  through  him.  Hence  his 
approval,  in  the  present  instance,  was  so  remarkable 
that  it  awakened  Chupin's  suspicions.  "  I  shall  make 
a  few  sous,  probably,"  he  modestly  replied,  "  a  trifle 
to  aid  my  good  mother  in  keeping  the  pot  boiling." 

"  So  much  the  better,  my  boy,"  said  M.  Fortunat. 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  315 

"  I  like  to  see  money  gained  by  those  who  make  a  good 
use  of  it.  And  to  prove  this,  I'm  about  to  employ  you 
in  an  affair  which  will  pay  you  handsomely  if  you 
prosecute  it  successfully." 

Chupin's  eyes  brightened  at  first  but  grew  dark  a 
moment  afterward,  for  delight  had  been  quickly  fol- 
lowed by  a  feeling  of  distrust.  He  thought  it  exceed- 
ingly strange  that  an  employer  should  take  the  trouble 
to  climb  to  a  sixth  floor  merely  for  the  purpose  of 
conferring  a  favor  on  his  clerk.  There  must  be  some- 
thing behind  all  this;  and  so  it  behove  him  to  keep 
his  eyes  open.  However,  he  knew  how  to  conceal  his 
real  feelings;  and  it  was  with  a  joyous  air  that  he 
exclaimed:  "Eh!  What?  Money?  Now?  What 
must  I  do  to  earn  it  ?  " 

"  Oh !  a  mere  trifle/'  replied  the  agent ;  "  almost 
nothing,  indeed."*  And  drawing  his  chair  nearer  to  the 
bed  on  which  his  employee  was  seated,  he  added :  "  But 
first,  one  question,  Victor.  By  the  way  in  which  a 
woman  looks  at  a  young  man  in  the  street,  at  the  the- 
atre or  anywhere — would  you  know  if  she  were  watch- 
ing her  son  ?  " 

Chupin  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  What  a  question  !  " 
he  retorted.  "  Nonsense !  monsieur,  it  would  be  im- 
possible to  deceive  me.  I  should  only  have  to  remem- 
ber my  mother's  eyes  when  I  return  home  in  the  even- 
ing. Poor  woman !  although  she's  half  blind,  she  sees 
me — and  if  you  wish  to  make  her  happy,  you've  only  to 
tell  her  I'm  the  handsomest  and  most  amiable  youth  in 
Paris." 

M.  Fortunat  could  not  refrain  from  rubbing  his 
hands,  so  delighted  was  he  to  see  his  idea  so  perfectly 
understood  and  so  admirably  expressed.  "  Good !  "  he 
declared ;  "  very  good !  That's  intelligence,  if  I  am 


316  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

any  judge.  I  have  not  been  deceived  in  you,  Vic- 
tor." 

Victor  was  on  fire  with  curiosity.  "What  am  I  to 
do,  monsieur?"  he  asked  eagerly. 

"  This :  you  must  follow  a  woman  whom  I  shall  point 
out  to  you,  follow  her  everywhere  without  once  losing 
sight  of  her,,  and  so  skilfully  as  not  to  let  her  suspect 
it.  You  must  watch  her  every  glance,  and  when  her 
eyes  tell  you  that  she  is  looking  at  her  son,  your  task 
will  be  nearly  over.  You  will  then  only  have  to  follow 
this  son,  and  find  out  his  name  and  address,  what  he 
does,  and  how  he  lives.  I  don't  know  if  I  explain 
what  I  mean  very  clearly." 

This  doubt  was  awakened  in  M.  Fortunat's  mind  by 
Chupin's  features,  which  were  expressive  of  lively 
astonishment  and  discontent.  "  Excuse  me,  monsieur," 
he  said,  at  last,  "  I  do  not  understand  at  all." 

"  It's  very  simple,  however.  The  lady  in  question 
has  a  son  about  twenty.  I  know  it — Pm  sure  of  it. 
But  she  denies  it;  she  conceals  the  fact,  and  he  doesn't 
even  know  her.  She  secretly  watches  over  him,  how- 
ever— she  provides  him  with  money,  and  every  day  she 
finds  some  way  of  seeing  him.  Now,  it  is  to  my  inter- 
est to  find  this  son." 

Chupin's  mobile  face  became  actually  threatening  in 
its  expression;  he  frowned  darkly,  and  his  lips  quiv- 
ered. Still  this  did  not  prevent  M.  Fortunat  from 
adding,  with  the  assurance  of  a  man  who  does  not  even 
suspect  the  possibility  of  a  refusal :  "  Now,  when  shall 
we  set  about  our  task  ?  " 

"  Never ! "  cried  Chupin,  violently ;  and,  rising,  he 
continued :  "  No !  I  wouldn't  let  my  good  mother  eat 
bread  earned  in  that  way — it  would  strangle  her !  Turn 
spy !  I  ?  Thanks — some  one  else  may  have  the  job !  " 


THE   COUNTS   MILLIONS  317 

He  had  become  as  red  as  a  turkey-cock,  and  such  was 
his  indignation  that  he  forgot  his  accustomed  reserve 
and  the  caution  with  which  he  had  so  far  concealed  his 
antecedents.  "I  know  this  game — Pve  tried  it!"  he 
went  on,,  vehemently.  "  One  might  as  well  take  one's 
ticket  to  prison  by  a  direct  road.  I  should  be  there 
now  if  it  hadn't  been  for  Monsieur  Andre.  I  was 
thirsting  for  gold,  and,  like  the  brigand  that  I  was,  I 
should  have  killed  the  man ;  but  in  revenge  he  drew  me 
from  the  mire  and  placed  my  feet  on  solid  ground  once 
more.  And  now,  shall  I  go  back  to  my  vile  tricks 
again  ?  Why,  I'd  rather  cut  my  leg  off !  I'm  to  hunt 
down  this  poor  woman — I'm  to  discover  her  secret  so 
that  you  may  extort  money  from  her,,  am  I?  No,  not 
I !  I  should  like  to  be  rich,  and  I  shall  be  rich ;  but 
I'll  make  my  money  honestly.  I  hope  to  touch  my 
hundred- franc  pieces  without  being  obliged  to  wash  my 
hands  afterward.  So,  a  very  good  evening  to  your 
establishment." 

M.  Fortunat  was  amazed,  and  at  the  same  time  much 
annoyed,  to  find  himself  forsaken  on  account  of  such  a 
trifle.  He  feared,  too,  that  Chupin  might  let  his  tongue 
wag  if  he  left  his  employment.  So,  since  he  had  con- 
fided this  project  to  Chupin,  he  was  determined  that 
Chupin  alone  should  carry  it  into  execution.  Assum- 
ing his  most  severe  and  injured  manner,  he  sternly 
exclaimed :  "  I  think  you  have  lost  your  senses."  His 
demeanor  and  intonation  were  so  perfectly  cool  that 
Chupin  seemed  slightly  abashed.  "  It  seems  that  you 
think  me  capable  of  urging  you  to  commit  some  dan- 
gerous and  dishonorable  act,"  continued  M.  Fortunat. 

"Why — no — m'sieur — I  assure  you " 

There  was  such  evident  hesitation  in  the  utterance 
of  this  "  no  "  that  the  agent  at  once  resumed :  "  Come, 


318  THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS 

you  are  not  ignorant  of  the  fact  that  in  addition  to  my 
business  as  a  collector,  I  give  my  attention  to  the  dis- 
covery of  the  heirs  of  unclaimed  estates?  You  are 
aware  of  this  ?  Very  well  then :  pray  tell  me  how  I  am 
to  find  them  without  searching  for  them?  If  I  wish 
this  lady  to  be  watched,  it  is  only  in  view  of  reaching  a 
poor  lad  who  is  likely  to  be  defrauded  of  the  wealth 
that  rightfully  belongs  to  him.  And  when  I  give  you 
a  chance  to  make  forty  or  fifty  francs  in  a  couple  of 
days,  you  receive  my  proposition  in  this  style!  You 
are  an  ingrate  and  a  fool,  Victor ! " 

Chupin's  nature  combined,  in  a  remarkable  degree, 
the  vices  and  peculiarities  of  the  dweller  in  the  Paris 
faubourgs,  who  is  born  old,  but  who,  when  aged  in 
years,  still  remains  a  gamin.  In  his  youth  he  had  seen 
many  strange  things,  and  acquired  a  knowledge  of  life 
that  would  have  put  the  experience  of  a  philosopher  to 
shame.  But  he  was  not  fit  to  cope  with  M.  Fortunat, 
who  had  an  immense  advantage  over  him,  by  reason  of 
his  position  of  employer,  as  well  as  by  his  fortune  and 
education.  So  Chupin  was  both  bewildered  and  dis- 
concerted by  the  cool  arguments  his  patron  brought 
forward;  and  what  most  effectually  allayed  his  suspi- 
cions was  the  small  compensation  offered  for  the  work 
— merely  forty  or  fifty  francs.  "  Small  potatoes,  upon 
my  word  !  "  he  thought.  "  Just  the  price  of  an  honest 
service;  he  would  have  offered  more  for  a  piece  of 
rascality/'  So,  after  considering  a  moment,  he  said, 
aloud :  "  Very  well ;  I'm  your  man,  m'sieur." 

M.  Fortunat  was  secretly  laughing  at  the  success  of 
his  ruse.  Having  come  with  the  intention  of  offering 
his  agent  a  handsome  sum,  he  was  agreeably  surprised 
to  find  that  Chupin's  scruples  would  enable  him  to  save 
his  money.  "  If  I  hadn't  found  you  engaged  in  study, 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  319 

Victor,"  he  said,  "  I  should  have  thought  you  had  been 
drinking.  What  venomous  insect  stung  you  so  sud- 
denly? Haven't  I  confided  similar  undertakings  to  you 
twenty  times  since  you  have  been  in  my  employment? 
Who  ransacked  Paris  to  find  certain  debtors  who  were 
concealing  themselves?  Who  discovered  the  Vantras- 
sons  for  me  ?  Victor  Chupin.  Very  well.  Then  allow 
me  to  say  that  I  see  nothing  in  this  case  in  any  way 
differing  from  the  others,  nor  can  I  understand  why 
this  should  be  wrong.,  if  the  others  were  not/' 

Chupin  could  only  have  answered  this  remark  by 
saying  that  there  had  been  no  mystery  about  the  pre- 
vious affairs,  that  they  had  not  been  proposed  to  him 
late  at  night  at  his  own  home,  and  that  he  had  acted 
openly,  as  a  person  who  represents  a  creditor  has  a 
recognized  right  to  act.  But,  though  he  felt  that  there 
was  a  difference  in  the  present  case,  it  would  have 
been  very  difficult  for  him  to  explain  in  what  this 
difference  consisted.  Hence,  in  his  most  resolute  tone : 
"  Pm  only  a  fool,  m'sieur,"  he  declared ;  "  but  I  shall 
know  how  to  make  amends  for  my  folly." 

"  That  means  you  have  recovered  your  senses,"  said 
M.  Fortunat,  ironically.  "  Really,  that's  fortunate.  But 
let  me  give  you  one  bit  of  advice :  watch  yourself,  and 
learn  to  bridle  your  tongue.  You  won't  always  find  me 
in  such  a  good  humor  as  I  am  this  evening." 

So  saying,,  he  rose,  passed  out  into  the  adjoining 
room,  bowed  civilly  to  his  clerk's  mother,  and  went  off. 
His  last  words,  as  he  crossed  the  threshold,  were,  "  So 
I  shall  rely  upon  you.  Be  at  the  office  to-morrow  a 
little  before  noon." 

"  It's  agreed  m'sieur." 

The  blind  woman  had  risen,  and  had  bowed  respect- 
fully; but,  as  soon  as  she  was  alone  with  her  son,  she 


320  THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS 

asked:  "What  is  this  business  he  bids  you  undertake 
in  such  a  high  and  mighty  tone  ?  " 

"  Oh !  an  every-day  matter,  mother/5 

The  old  woman  shook  her  head.  "Why  were  you 
talking  so  loud  then?"  she  inquired.  "Weren't  you 
quarrelling?  It  must  be  something  very  grave  when 
if s  necessary  to  conceal  it  from  me.  I  couldn't  see 
your  employer's  face,  my  son;  but  I  heard  his  voice, 
and  it  didn't  please  me.  It  isn't  the  voice  of  an  honest, 
straightforward  man.  Take  care,  Toto,  and  don't  allow 
yourself  to  be  cajoled — be  prudent.'5 

However,  it  was  quite  unnecessary  to  recommend 
prudence  to  Victor  Chupin.  He  had  promised  his  as- 
sistance, but  not  without  a  mental  reservation.  "  No 
need  to  see  danger  till  it  comes,"  he  had  said  to  him- 
self. "  If  the  thing  proves  to  be  of  questionable  pro- 
priety after  all,  then  good-evening;  I  desert." 

It  remains  to  know  what  he  meant  by  questionable 
propriety;  the  meaning  of  the  expression  is  rather 
vague.  He  had  returned  in  all  honesty  and  sincerity  of 
purpose  to  an  honest  life,  and  nothing  in  the  world 
would  have  induced  him,  avaricious  though  he  was,  to 
commit  an  act  that  was  positively  wrong.  Only  the  line 
that  separates  good  from  evil  was  not  very  clearly  de- 
fined in  his  mind.  This  was  due  in  a  great  measure  to 
his  education,  and  to  the  fact  that  it  had  been  long 
before  he  realized  that  police  regulations  do  not  con- 
stitute the  highest  moral  law.  It  was  due  also  to 
chance,  and,  since  he  had  no  decided  calling,  to  the 
necessity  of  depending  for  a  livelihood  upon  the  many 
strange  professions  which  impecunious  and  untrained 
individuals,  both  of  the  higher  and  lower  classes,  adopt 
in  Paris. 

However,  on  the  following  morning  he  arrayed  him- 


THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS  321 

self  in  his  best  apparel,  and  at  exactly  half-past  eleven 
o'clock  he  rang  at  his  employer's  door.  M.  Fortunat 
had  made  quick  work  with  his  clients  that  morning, 
and  was  ready,  dressed  to  go  out.  He  took  up  his  hat 
and  said  only  the  one  word,  "  Come."  The  place  where 
the  agent  conducted  his  clerk  was  the  wine-shop  in  the 
Rue  de  Berry,  where  he  had  made  inquiries  respecting 
Madame  d'Argeles  the  evening  before ;  and  on  arriving 
there,  he  generously  offered  him  a  breakfast.  Before 
entering,  however,  he  pointed  out  Madame  d'Argeles's 
pretty  house  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  street,  and  said 
to  him:  "The  woman  whom  you  are  to  follow,  and 
whose  son  you  are  to  discover,  will  emerge  from  that 
house/' 

At  that  moment,  after  a  night  passed  in  meditating 
upon  his  mother's  prophetic  warnings,  Chupin  was 
again  beset  by  the  same  scruples  which  had  so  greatly 
disturbed  him  on  the  previous  evening.  However,  they 
soon  vanished  when  he  heard  the  wine-vendor,  in  reply 
to  M.  Fortunat's  skilful  questions,  begin  to  relate  all 
he  knew  concerning  Madame  Lia  d'Argeles,  and  the 
scandalous  doings  at  her  house.  The  seeker  after  lost 
heirs  and  his  clerk  were  served  at  a  little  table  near 
the  door;  and  while  they  partook  of  the  classical  beef- 
steak and  potatoes — M.  Fortunat  eating  daintily,  and 
Chupin  bolting  his  food  with  the  appetite  of  a  ship- 
wrecked mariner — they  watched  the  house  opposite. 

Madame  d'Argeles  received  on  Saturdays,  and,  as 
Chupin  remarked,  "  there  was  a  regular  procession  of 
visitors." 

Standing  beside  M.  Fortunat,  and  flattered  by  the  at- 
tention which  such  a  well-dressed  gentleman  paid  to 
his  chatter,  the  landlord  of  the  house  mentioned  the 
names  of  all  the  visitors  he  knew.  And  he  knew  a  good 


322  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

number  of  them,  for  the  coachmen  came  to  his  shop 
for  refreshments  when  their  masters  were  spending  the 
night  in  play  at  Madame  d'Argeles's  house.  So  he 
was  able  to  name  the  Viscount  de  Coralth,  who  dashed 
up  to  the  door  in  a  two-horse  phaeton,  as  well  as  Baron 
Trigault,  who  came  on  foot,  for  exercise,  puffing  and 
blowing  like  a  seal.  The  wine-vendor,  moreover,  told 
his  customers  that  Madame  d'Argeles  never  went  out 
before  half-past  two  or  three  o'clock,  and  then  always 
in  a  carriage — a  piece  of  information  which  must  have 
troubled  Chupin;  for,  as  soon  as  the  landlord  had  left 
them  to  serve  some  other  customers,  he  leant  forward 
and  said  to  M.  Fortunat:  "  Did  you  hear  that?  How  is 
it  possible  to  track  a  person  who's  in  a  carriage  ?  " 

"  By  following  in  another  vehicle,  of  course." 

"  Certainly,  m'sieur ;  that's  as  clear  as  daylight.  But 
that  isn't  the  question.  The  point  is  this :  How  can 
one  watch  the  face  of  a  person  who  turns  her  back  to 
you  ?  I  must  see  this  woman's  face  to  know  whom  she 
looks  at,  and  how." 

This  objection,  grave  as  it  appeared,  did  not  seem  to 
disturb  M.  Fortunat.  "  Don't  worry  about  that,  Vic- 
tor," he  replied.  "  Under  such  circumstances,  a  mother 
wouldn't  try  to  see  her  son  from  a  rapidly  moving  car- 
riage. She  will  undoubtedly  alight,  and  contrive  some 
means  of  passing  and  repassing  him — of  touching  him, 
if  possible.  Your  task  will  only  consist  in  following 
her  closely  enough  to  be  on  the  ground  as  soon  as  she 
is.  Confine  your  efforts  to  that ;  and  if  you  fail  to-day, 
you'll  succeed  to-morrow  or  the  day  after — the  essen- 
tial thing  is  to  be  patient." 

He  did  better  than  to  preach  patience — he  practised 
it.  The  hours  wore  away,  and  yet  he  did  not  stir  from 
his  post,  though  nothing  could  have  been  more  dis- 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  323 

agreeable  to  him  than  to  remain  on  exhibition,  as  it 
were,  at  the  door  of  a  wine-shop.  At  last,  at  a  little 
before  three  o'clock,  the  gates  over  the  way  turned 
upon  their  hinges,  and  a  dark-blue  victoria,  in  which  a 
woman  was  seated,  rolled  forth  into  the  street.  "  Look  I" 
said  M.  Fortunat,  eagerly.  "  There  she  is ! " 


XVIII. 

THE  woman  in  the  carriage  was  none  other  than 
Madame  Lia  d'Argeles.  She  was  attired  in  one  of 
those  startling  costumes  which  are  the  rage  nowadays, 
and  which  impart  the  same  bold  and  brazen  appearance 
to  all  who  wear  them:  so  much  so,  that  the  most  ex- 
perienced observers  are  no  longer  able  to  distinguish 
the  honest  mother  of  a  family  from  a  notorious  char- 
acter. A  Dutchman,  named  Van  Klopen,  who  was 
originally  a  tailor  at  Rotterdam,  rightfully  ascribes  the 
honor  of  this  progress  to  himself.  One  can  scarcely 
explain  how  it  happens  that  this  individual,  who  calls 
himself  "  the  dressmaker  of  the  queens  of  Europe," 
has  become  the  arbiter  of  Parisian  elegance;  but  it  is 
an  undeniable  fact  that  he  does  reign  over  fashion. 
He  decrees  the  colors  that  shall  be  worn,  decides 
whether  dresses  shall  be  short  or  long,  whether  paniers 
shall  be  adopted  or  discarded,  whether  ruches  and  puffs 
and  flowers  shall  be  allowed,  and  in  what  form;  and 
his  subjects,  the  so-called  elegant  women  of  Paris,  obey 
him  implicitly. 

Madame  d'Argeles  would  personally  have  preferred 
less  finery,  perhaps,  but  it  would  not  have  done  for  her 
to  be  out  of  the  fashion.  She  wore  an  imperceptible 
hat,  balanced  on  an  immense  pyramidal  chignon,  from 


324  THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS 

which  escaped  a  torrent  of  wavy  hair.  "  What  a  beau- 
tiful woman ! "  exclaimed  the  dazzled  Chupin,  and  in- 
deed, seen  from  this  distance,  she  did  not  look  a  day 
more  than  thirty-five — an  age  when  beauty  possesses 
all  the  alluring  charm  of  the  luscious  fruit  of  autumn. 
She  was  giving  orders  for  the  drive,  and  her  coachman, 
with  a  rose  in  his  buttonhole,  listened  while  he  reined 
in  the  spirited  horse.  "The  weather's  superb,"  added 
Chupin.  "  She'll  no  doubt  drive  round  the  lakes  in 
the  Bois  de  Boulogne " 

"  Ah,  she's  off !  "  interrupted  M.  Fortunat.  "  Run, 
Victor,  run!  and  don't  be  miserly  as  regards  carriage 
hire;  all  your  expenses  shall  be  liberally  refunded  you." 

Chupin  was  already  far  away.  Madame  d'Argeles's 
horse  went  swiftly  enough,  but  the  agent's  emissary 
had  the  limbs  and  the  endurance  of  a  stag,  and  he  kept 
pace  with  the  victoria  without  much  difficulty.  And  as 
he  ran  along,  his  brain  was  busy.  "  If  I  don't  take  a 
cab,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  if  I  follow  the  woman  on 
foot,  I  shall  have  a  perfect  right  to  pocket  the  forty- 
five  sous  an  hour — fifty,  counting  the  gratuity — that  a 
cab  would  cost/' 

But  on  reaching  the  Champ  Elysees,  he  discovered, 
to  his  regret,  that  this  plan  was  impracticable,  for  on 
running  down  the  Avenue  de  1'Imperatrice  after  the 
rapidly  driven  carriage,  he  could  not  fail  to  attract 
attention.  Stifling  a  sigh  of  regret,  and  seeing  a  cab 
at  a  stand  near  by,  he  hastily  hailed  it.  "Where  do 
you  want  to  go,  sir?"  inquired  the  driver. 

"  Just  follow  that  blue  victoria,  in  which  a  handsome 
lady  is  seated,  my  good  fellow." 

The  order  did  not  surprise  the  cabman,  but  rather  the 
person  who  gave  it ;  for  in  spite  of  his  fine  apparel, 
Chupin  did  not  seem  quite  the  man  for  such  an  ad- 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  325 

venture.  "  Excuse  me,"  said  the  Jehu,  in  a  slightly 
ironical  tone,  "  I " 

"  I  said  exactly  what  I  mean,"  retorted  Chupin, 
whose  pride  was  severely  wounded.  "  And  no  more 
talk — hurry  on,  or  we  shall  miss  the  track." 

This  last  remark  was  correct,  for  if  Madame  d'Ar- 
geles's  coachman  had  not  slackened  his  horse's  speed 
on  passing  round  the  Arc  de  Triomphe,  the  woman 
would  have  escaped  Chupin,  for  that  day  at  least. 
However,  this  circumstance  gave  the  cabman  an  oppor- 
tunity to  overtake  the  victoria;  and  after  that  the  two 
vehicles  kept  close  together  as  they  proceeded  down  the 
Avenue  de  i'lmperatrice.  But  at  the  entrance  of  the 
Bois  de  Boulogne  Chupin  ordered  his  driver  to  stop. 
"Halt!"  he  exclaimed;  "I  shall  get  out.  Pay  the 
extra  cab  charges  for  passing  beyond  the  limits  of 
Paris  ! — never !  I'll  crawl  on  my  hands  and  knees  first. 
Here  are  forty  sous  for  your  fare — and  good-evening 
to  you." 

And,  as  the  blue  victoria  was  already  some  distance 
in  advance,  he  started  off  at  the  top  of  his  speed  to 
overtake  it.  This  manoeuvre  was  the  result  of  his 
meditations  while  riding  along.  "  What  will  this  fine 
lady  do  when  she  gets  to  the  Bois  ?  "  he  asked  himself. 
"Why,  her  coachman  will  take  his  place  in  the  pro- 
cession, and  drive  her  slowly  round  and  round  the 
lakes.  Meantime  I  can  trot  along  beside  her  without 
attracting  attention — and  it  will  be  good  for  my  health." 

His  expectations  were  realized  in  every  respect.  The 
victoria  soon  turned  to  the  left,  and  took  its  place  in 
the  long  line  of  equipages  which  were  slowly  winding 
round  the  lake.  Having  gained  the  foot-path  which 
borders  the  sheet  of  water,  Chupin  followed  the  car- 
riage easily  enough,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  and 


326  THE   COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

his  heart  jubilant  at  the  thought  that  he  would  gain 
the  sum  supposed  to  have  been  spent  in  cab  hire,  in 
addition  to  the  compensation  which  had  been  promised 
him.  "This  is  a  strange  way  of  enjoying  one's  self/' 
he  muttered,  as  he  trotted  along.  "  There  can't  be 
much  pleasure  in  going  round  and  round  this  lake.  If 
ever  Fm  rich,  I'll  find  some  other  way  of  amusing 
myself." 

Poor  Chupin  did  not  know  that  people  do  not  go  to 
the  Bois  to  enjoy  themselves,,  but  rather  to  torment 
others.  This  broad  drive  is  in  reality  only  a  field  for 
the  airing  of  vanity — a  sort  of  open-air  bazaar  for  the 
display  of  dresses  and  equipages.  People  come  here  to 
see  and  to  be  seen;  and,  moreover,  this  is  neutral 
ground,  where  so-called  honest  women  can  meet  those 
notorious  characters  from  whom  they  are  elsewhere 
separated  by  an  impassable  abyss.  What  exquisite 
pleasure  it  must  be  to  the  dames  of  society  to  find  them- 
selves beside  Jenny  Fancy  or  Ninette  Simplon,  or  any 
other  of  those  young  ladies  whom  they  habitually  call 
"  creatures,"  but  whom  they  are  continually  talking  of, 
and  whose  toilettes,  make-up,  and  jargon,  they  assidu- 
ously copy! 

However,  Chupin  indulged  in  none  of  these  reflec- 
tions. He  was  engaged  in  noting  Madame  d'Argeles's 
evident  anxiety  and  restlessness.  She  looked  eagerly  on 
all  sides,  sometimes  half  leaning  out  of  her  carriage, 
and  immediately  turning  her  head  whenever  she  heard 
the  gallop  of  a  horseman  behind  her.  She  was  evi- 
dently looking  or  waiting  for  some  one,  but  the  person 
did  not  make  his  appearance,  and  so,  growing  weary 
of  waiting,  after  driving  three  times  round  the  lake,  she 
made  a  sign  to  her  coachman,  who  at  once  drew  out  of 
line,  and  turned  his  horse  into  a  side-path.  Chupin 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  327 

hastened  after  the  victoria,  keeping  it  in  sight  until  he 
was  fortunate  enough  to  meet  an  empty  cab,  which  he 
at  once  hired.  Madame  d'Argeles's  coachman.,  who  had 
received  his  orders,  now  drove  down  the  Champs 
Elysees,  again  crossed  the  Place  de  la  Concorde,  turned 
into  the  boulevards,  and  stopped  short  at  the  corner  of 
the  Chaussee  d'Antin,  where,  having  tied  a  thick  veil 
over  her  face,  Madame  Lia  abruptly  alighted  and 
walked  away. 

This  was  done  so  quickly  that  Chupin  barely  had  time 
to  fling  two  francs  to  his  driver  and  rush  after  her. 
She  had  already  turned  round  the  corner  of  the  Rue  du 
Helder,  and  was  walking  rapidly  up  the  street.  It  was 
a  little  after  five  o'clock,  and  dusk  was  setting  in. 
Madame  d'Argeles  had  taken  the  side  of  the  street  al- 
lotted to  the  uneven  numbers.  After  she  had  passed 
the  Hotel  de  Homburg,  she  slackened  her  pace,  and 
eagerly  scrutinized  one  of  the  houses  opposite — No.  48. 
Her  examination  lasted  but  a  moment,  and  seemed  to 
be  satisfactory.  She  then  turned,  and  rapidly  retraced 
her  steps  as  far  as  the  boulevard,  when,  crossing  the 
street  to  the  side  of  the  even  numbers,  she  walked  up 
it  again  very  slowly,  stopping  before  every  shop- 
window. 

Convinced  that  he  had  almost  reached  the  goal, 
Chupin  also  crossed,  and  followed  closely  at  her  heels. 
He  soon  saw  her  start  and  resume  her  rapid  gait.  A 
young  man  was  coming  toward  her  so  quickly  indeed 
that  she  had  not  time  to  avoid  him,  and  a  collision  en- 
sued, whereupon  the  young  man  gave  vent  to  an  oath, 
and  hurling  an  opprobrious  epithet  in  her  face,  passed 
on. 

Chupin  shuddered.  "What  if  that  should  be  her 
son  ?  "  he  thought.  And  while  he  pretended  to  be  gaz- 


328  THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS 

ing  into  a  shop  window,  he  stealthily  watched  the  poor 
woman.  She  had  paused,  and  he  was  so  near  that  he 
could  almost  have  touched  her.  He  saw  her  raise  her 
veil  and  follow  her  insulter  with  a  look  which  it  was 
impossible  to  misunderstand.  "  Oh !  oh !  It  was  her 

son  that  called  her  that "  said  Chupin  to  himself. 

quite  horrified.  And  without  more  ado,  he  hastened 
after  the  young  man. 

He  was  between  two  and  four-and-twenty  years  of 
age,  rather  above  the  medium  height,  with  very  light 
hair  and  an  extremely  pale  complexion.  His  slight 
mustache  would  have  been  almost  imperceptible  if  it 
had  not  been  dyed  several  shades  darker  than  his  hair. 
He  was  attired  with  that  studied  carelessness  which 
many  consider  to  be  the  height  of  elegance,  but  which 
is  just  the  reverse.  And  his  bearing,  his  mustache,  and 
his  low  hat,  tipped  rakishly  over  one  ear,  gave  him  an 
arrogant,  pretentious,  rowdyish  appearance.  "  Zounds  ! 
that  fellow  doesn't  suit  my  fancy/'  growled  Chupin,  as 
he  trotted  along.  For  he  was  almost  running  in  his 
efforts  to  keep  pace  with  Madame  d'Argeles's  insulter. 
The  latter's  haste  was  soon  explained.  He  was  carry- 
ing a  letter  which  he  wished  to  have  delivered,  and  no 
doubt  he  feared  he  would  not  be  able  to  find  a  com- 
missionaire. Having  discovered  one  at  last,  he  called 
him,  gave  him  the  missive,  and  then  pursued  his  way 
more  leisurely. 

He  had  reached  the  boulevard,  when  a  florid-faced 
youth,  remarkably  short  and  stout,  rushed  toward  him 
with  both  hands  amicably  extended,  at  the  same  time 
crying,  loud  enough  to  attract  the  attention  of  the 
passers-by :  "  Is  it  possible  that  this  is  my  dear 
Wilkie?" 

"  Yes — alive  and  in  the  flesh,"  replied  the  young  man. 


THE   COUNTS    MILLIONS  329 

"  Well,  and  what  the  devil  have  you  been  doing  with 
yourself?  Last  Sunday,  at  the  races,  I  looked  for  you 
everywhere,  and  not  a  vestige  of  Wilkie  was  to  be 
found.  However,  you  were  wise  not  to  go.  I  am  three 
hundred  louis  out  of  pocket.  I  staked  everything  on 
Domingo,  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay's  horse.  I  thought 
I  was  sure  to  win — yes,  sure.  Well,  Domingo  came  in 
third.  Can  you  understand  that?  If  every  one  didn't 
know  that  Valorsay  was  a  millionaire,  it  might  be 
supposed  there  had  been  some  foul  play — yes,  upon  my 
word — that  he  had  bet  against  his  own  horse,  and  for- 
bidden his  jockey  to  win  the  race/'  But  the  speaker 
did  not  really  believe  this,  so  he  continued,  more  gayly : 
"  Fortunately,  I  shall  retrieve  my  losses  to-morrow,  at 
Vincennes.  Shall  we  see  you  there  ?" 

"  Probably." 

"  Then  good-by,  until  to-morrow." 

"Until  to-morrow." 

Thereupon  they  shook  hands,  and  each  departed  on 
his  way. 

Chupin  had  not  lost  a  word  of  this  conversation. 
"  Valorsay  a  millionaire !  "  he  said  to  himself.  "  That's 
good!  Ah,  well!  now  I  know  my  little  gamecock's 
name,  and  I  also  know  that  he  goes  to  the  races.  Wilkie 
that  must  be  an  English  name;  I  like  the  name  of 
d'Argeles  better.  But  where  the  devil  is  he  going 
now?" 

M.  Wilkie  had  simply  paused  to  replenish  his  cigar- 
case  at  the  tobacco  office  of  the  Grand  Hotel ;  and,  after 
lighting  a  cigar,  he  came  out  again,  and  walked  up  the 
boulevard  in  the  direction  of  the  Faubourg  Montmartre. 
He  was  no  longer  in  a  hurry  now;  he  strolled  along 
in  view  of  killing  time,  displaying  his  charms,  and 
staring  impudently  at  every  woman  who  passed.  With 


330  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

his  shoulders  drawn  up  on  a  level  with  his  ears,  and 
his  chest  thrown  back,  he  dragged  his  feet  after  him 
as  if  his  limbs  were  half  paralyzed ;  he  was  indeed  doing 
his  best  to  create  the  impression  that  he  was  used  up, 
exhausted,  broken  down  by  excesses  and  dissipation. 
For  that  is  the  fashion — the  latest  fancy — chic! 

"  Will  you  never  have  done  ?  "  growled  Chupin. 

"  You  shall  pay  for  this,  you  little  wretch !  "  He  was 
so  indignant  that  the  gamin  element  in  his  nature  stirred 
again  under  his  fine  broadcloth,  and  he  had  a  wild  long- 
ing to  throw  stones  at  M.  Wilkie.  He  would  certainly 
have  trodden  on  his  heels,  and  have  picked  a  quarrel 
with  him,  had  it  not  been  for  a  fear  of  failing  in  his 
mission,  and  thereby  losing  his  promised  reward. 

He  followed  his  man  closely,  for  the  crowd  was  very 
great.  Night  was  coming  on,  and  the  gas  was  lit  on 
all  sides.  The  weather  was  very  mild,  and  there  was 
not  an  unoccupied  table  in  front  of  the  cafes,  for  it  was 
now  the  absinthe  hour.  How  does  it  happen  that  every 
evening,  between  five  and  seven  o'clock,  every  one  in 
Paris  who  is  known — who  is  somebody  or  something — 
can  be  found  between  the  Passage  de  1'Opera  and  the 
Passage  Jouffroy?  Hereabout  you  may  hear  all. the 
latest  news  and  gossip  of  the  fashionable  world,  the 
last  political  canards — all  the  incidents  of  Parisian 
life  which  will  be  recorded  by  the  papers  on  the  fol- 
lowing morning.  You  may  learn  the  price  of  stocks, 
and  obtain  tips  for  to-morrow's  Bourse;  ascertain  how 
much  Mademoiselle  A's  necklace  cost,  and  who  gave 
it  to  her;  with  the  latest  news  from  Prussia;  and  the 
name  of  the  bank  chairman  or  cashier  who  has  ab- 
sconded during  the  day,  and  the  amount  he  has  taken 
with  him. 

The  crowd  became  more   dense  as   the   Faubourg 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  331 

Montmartre  was  approached,  but  Wilkie  made  his  way 
through  the  throng  with  the  ease  of  an  old  boulevardier. 
He  must  have  had  a  large  circle  of  acquaintances,  for 
he  distributed  bows  right  and  left,  and  was  spoken  to 
by  five  or  six  promenaders.  He  did  not  pass  the  Ter- 
rasse  Jouffroy,  but,  pausing  there,  he  purchased  an 
evening  paper,  retraced  his  steps,  and  about  seven 
o'clock  reached  the  Cafe  Riche,  which  he  entered  tri- 
umphantly. He  did  not  even  touch  the  rim  of  his  hat 
on  going  in — that  would  have  been  excessively  bad 
form ;  but  he  called  a  waiter,  in  a  very  loud  voice,  and 
imperiously  ordered  him  to  serve  dinner  on  a  table  near 
the  window,  where  he  could  see  the  boulevard — and  be 
seen. 

"  And  now  my  little  fighting-cock  is  going  to  feed," 
thought  Chupin.  He,  too,  was  hungry;  and  he  was 
trying  to  think  of  some  modest  restaurant  in  the  neigh- 
borhood, when  two  young  men  passed  near  him  and 
glanced  into  the  cafe. 

"  Look,  there's  Wilkie ! "  observed  one  of  them. 

"  That's  so,  upon  my  word !  "  responded  the  other. 
"And  he  has  money,  too;  fortune  has  smiled  upon 
him." 

"  How  do  you  know  that  ?  " 

"  Why,  by  watching  the  fellow ;  one  can  tell  the  con- 
dition of  his  purse  as  correctly  as  he  could  himself.  If 
his  funds  are  low,  he  has  his  meals  brought  to  his 
room  from  a  cook-shop  where  he  has  credit;  his  mus- 
tache droops  despondingly ;  he  is  humble  even  to  ser- 
vility with  his  friends,  and  he  brushes  his  hair  over  his 
forehead.  When  he  is  in  average  circumstances,  he 
dines  at  Launay's,  waxes  his  mustache,  and  brushes  his 
hair  back  from  his  face.  But  when  he  dines  at  the  Cafe 
Riche,  my  boy,  when  he  has  dyed  his  mustache,  and  tips 


332  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

his  hat  over  his  ear,  and  deports  himself  in  that  arro- 
gant fashion,  why,  he  has  at  least  five  or  six  thousand 
francs  in  his  pocket,  and  all  is  well  with  him.33 

"  Where  does  he  get  his  money  from  ?  " 

"Who  can  tell?" 

"Is  he  rich?" 

"  He  must  have  plenty  of  money — I  lent  him  ten 
louis  once,  and  he  paid  me  back." 

"  Zounds !  He's  a  very  honorable  fellow,  then." 
Thereupon  the  two  young  men  laughed,  and  passed  on. 

Chupin  had  been  greatly  edified.  "  Now  I  know  you 
as  well  as  if  I  were  your  concierge,"  he  muttered,  ad- 
dressing the  unconscious  Wilkie;  "and  when  I've  fol- 
lowed you  home,,  and  learned  your  number,  I  shall  have 
richly  earned  the  fifty  francs  M.  Fortunat  promised 
me."  As  well  as  he  could  judge  through  the  window- 
pane,  M.  Wilkie  was  eating  his  dinner  with  an  ex- 
cellent appetite.  "  Ah  !  "  he  exclaimed,  not  without 
envy,  "  these  fighting-cocks  take  good  care  of  their 
stomachs.  He's  there  for  an  hour  at  least,  and  I  shall 
have  time  to  run  and  swallow  a  mouthful  myself." 

So  saying,  Chupin  hastened  to  a  small  restaurant  in 
a  neighboring  street,  and  magnificently  disbursed  the 
sum  of  thirty-nine  sous.  Such  extravagance  was  un- 
usual on  his  part,  for  he  had  lived  very  frugally  since 
he  had  taken  a  vow  to  become  rich.  Formerly,  when 
he  lived  from  hand  to  mouth — to  use  his  own  expres- 
sion— he  indulged  in  cigars  and  in  absinthe;  but  now 
he  contented  himself  with  the  fare  of  an  anchorite, 
drank  nothing  but  water,  and  only  smoked  when  some 
one  gave  him  a  cigar.  Nor  was  this  any  great  priva- 
tion to  him,  since  he  gained  a  penny  by  it — and  a  penny 
was  another  grain  of  sand  added  to  the  foundation  of 
his  future  wealth.  However,  this  evening  he  indulged 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  333 

in  the  extravagance  of  a  glass  of  wine,  deciding  in  his 
own  mind  that  he  had  fairly  earned  it. 

When  he  returned  to  his  post  in  front  of  the  Cafe 
Riche,  M.  Wilkie  was  no  longer  alone  at  his  table. 
He  was  finishing  his  coffee  in  the  company  of  a  man 
of  his  own  age,  who  was  remarkably  good-looking — 
almost  too  good-looking,  in  fact — and  a  glance  at 
whom  caused  Chupin  to  exclaim  :  "  What !  what !  I've 

seen  that  face  somewhere  before ".  But  he  racked 

his  brain  in  vain  in  trying  to  remember  who  this  new- 
comer was,  in  trying  to  set  a  name  on  this  face,  which 
was  positively  annoying  in  its  classical  beauty,  and 
which  he  felt  convinced  had  occupied  a  place  among  the 
phantoms  of  his  past.  Irritated  beyond  endurance  by 
what  he  termed  his  stupidity,  he  was  trying  to  decide 
whether  he  should  enter  the  cafe  or  not,  when  he  saw 
M.  Wilkie  take  his  bill  from  the  hands  of  a  waiter, 
glance  at  it,  and  throw  a  louis  on  the  table.  His  com- 
panion had  drawn  out  his  pocketbook  for  the  ostensible 
purpose  of  paying  for  the  coffee  he  had  taken;  but 
Wilkie,  with  a  cordial  gesture,  forbade  it,  and  made  that 
magnificent,  imperious  sign  to  the  waiter,  which  so 
clearly  implies  :  "  Take  nothing !  All  is  paid  !  Keep 
the  change."  Thereupon  the  servant  gravely  retired, 
more  than  ever  convinced  of  the  fact  that  vanity  in- 
creases the  fabulous  total  of  Parisian  gratuities  by  more 
than  a  million  francs  a  year. 

"  My  gallant  youths  are  coming  out,"  thought 
Chupin.  "  I  must  keep  my  ears  open."  And  approach- 
ing the  door,  he  dropped  on  one  knee,  and  pretended  to 
be  engaged  in  tying  his  shoestrings.  This  is  one  of  the 
thousand  expedients  adopted  by  spies  and  inquisitive 
people.  And  when  a  man  is  foolish  enough  to  tell  his 
secrets  in  the  street,  he  should  at  least  be  wise  enough 


hat  over 


" 


f  an  anc: 

iked  when 

jiy  great  ; 

it—and  a  pei  ;• 
to  the  foundation  of 
evening  he  indulged 


j 


open."    And  ap 
e  kiKv.  and  prete 

'?  and  inq 
-h  enough  to 


at  least  be  wise 


ach- 
d  to 

the 
tive 

his 
ugh 


334  THE     COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

to  distrust  the  people  near  him  who  pretend  to  be  ab- 
sorbed in  something  else;  for  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten 
these  persons  are  listening  to  him,  possibly  for  pay,  or 
possibly  from  curiosity. 

However,  the  young  men  whom  Chupin  was  watch- 
ing were  far  from  suspecting  that  they  were  under  sur- 
veillance. M.  Wilkie  came  out  first,  talking  very  loud, 
as  often  happens  when  a  man  has  just  partaken  of  a 
good  dinner,  and  is  blessed  with  an  excellent  digestion. 
"  Come,  Coralth,  my  good  fellow,  you  won't  desert  me 
in  this  way?  I  have  a  box  for  the  Varictes,  and  you 
must  go  with  me.  We'll  see  if  Silly  imitates  Theresa  as 
perfectly  as  they  say." 

"  But  I  have  an  appointment." 

"  Oh,  well,  let  it  wait.  Come,  viscount,  is  it  agreed  ?  " 

"  Ah,  you  do  with  me  just  as  you  like.'' 

"  Good !  But,  first  of  all  let  us  take  a  glass  of  beer 
to  finish  our  cigars.  And  do  you  know  whom  you  will 
find  in  my  box  ?  " 

At  this  moment  they  passed,  and  Chupin  rose  to  his 
feet.  "  Coralth,"  he  muttered,  "  Viscount  de  Coralth. 
He's  not  one  of  our  clients.  Let  me  see,  Coralth.  This 
is  certainly  the  first  time  I  have  ever  heard  the  name. 
Can  it  be  that  I'm  mistaken  ?  Impossible !  " 

The  more  he  reflected,  the  more  thoroughly  he  be- 
came convinced  of  the  accuracy  of  his  first  impression, 
consoling  himself  with  the  thought  that  a  name  has 
but  a  slight  significance  after  all.  His  preoccupation 
had  at  least  the  advantage  of  shortening  the  time  which 
he  spent  in  promenading  to  and  fro,  while  the  friends 
sat  outside  a  cafe  smoking  and  drinking.  It  was  still 
M.  Wilkie  who  monopolized  the  conversation,  while  his 
companion  listened  with  his  elbow  resting  on  the  table, 
occasionally  nodding  his  head  in  token  of  approbation. 


THE  YOUNG  MEN  WHOM  CHUPIN  WAS  WATCHING  WERE  FAR  FROM  SUS- 
PECTING   THAT   THEY    WERE   UNDER    SURVEILLANCE 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  335 

One  thing  that  incensed  Chupin  was  that  they  loitered 
there,  when  one  of  them  had  a  ticket  for  a  box  at  the 
theatre  in  his  pocket. 

"  Idiots !  "  he  growled ;  "  they'll  wait  till  the  play's 
half  over  before  they  go  in.  And  then  they'll  let  the 
doors  slam  behind  them  for  the  express  purpose  of  dis- 
turbing everybody.  Fools,  go  !  " 

As  if  they  had  heard  the  command.,  they  rose  sud- 
denly, and  an  instant  after  they  entered  the  Varietes. 
They  entered,  but  Chupin  remained  on  the  pavement, 
scratching  his  head  furiously,  in  accordance  with  his 
habit  whenever  he  wished  to  develop  his  powers  of 
imagination.  He  was  trying  to  think  how  he  might 
procure  admission  to  the  theatre  without  paying  for  it. 
For  several  years  he  had  seen  every  play  put  upon 
the  stage  in  Paris,  without  spending  a  sou,  and  he  felt 
that  it  would  be  actually  degrading  to  purchase  a  ticket 
at  the  office  now.  "  Pay  to  see  a  farce !  "  he  thought. 
"  Not  I.  I  must  know  some  one  here — I'll  wait  for 
the  entr'acte." 

The  wisdom  of  this  course  became  apparent  when 
among  those  who  left  the  theatre  at  the  close  of  the 
first  act  he  recognized  an  old  acquaintance,  who  was 
now  working  on  the  claque*  and  who  at  once  procured 
him  a  ticket  of  admission  for  nothing.  "  Well,  it  is  a 
good  thing  to  have  friends  everywhere,"  he  muttered, 
as  he  took  the  seat  assigned  him. 

It  was  a  very  good  place  they  had  given  him — a  seat 
in  the  second  gallery  commanding  an  excellent  view  of 
the  house.  The  first  glance  around  told  him  that  his 
"  customers/'  as  he  styled  them,  were  in  a  box  exactly 


*  The  body  of  hired  applauders  who  are  employed  at 
most  Parisian  theatres  to  stimulate  the  enthusiasm  of  the 
audience. — [Trans.] 


336  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

opposite.  They  were  now  in  the  company  of  two 
damsels  in  startling  toilettes,  with  exceedingly  dishev- 
elled yellow  hair,  who  moved  restlessly  about,  and 
giggled  and  stared,  and  tried  in  every  possible  way  to 
attract  attention.  And  their  stratagem  succeeded. 
However,  this  did  not  seem  to  please  the  Viscount  de 
Coralth,  who  kept  himself  as  far  back  in  the  shade 
as  he  possibly  could.  But  young  Wilkie  was  evidently 
delighted,  and  seemed  manifestly  proud  of  the  atten- 
tion which  the  public  was  compelled  to  bestow  upon 
his  box.  He  offered  himself  as  much  as  possible  to 
the  gaze  of  the  audience ;  moved  about,  leaned  forward, 
and  made  himself  fully  as  conspicuous  as  his  fair  com- 
panions. Less  than  ever  did  Chupin  now  forgive 
Wilkie  for  the  insult  he  had  cast  in  the  face  of  Madame 
Lia  d'Argeles,,  who  was  probably  his  mother. 

As  for  the  play,  M.  Fortunat's  emissary  did  not  hear 
twenty  words  of  it.  He  was  so  overcome  with  fatigue 
that  he  soon  fell  asleep.  The  noise  and  bustle  of  each 
entr'acte  aroused  him  a  little,  but  he  did  not  thoroughly 
wake  up  until  the  close  of  the  performance.  His  "  cus- 
tomers "  were  still  in  their  box,  and  M.  Wilkie  was 
gallantly  wrapping  the  ladies  in  their  cloaks  and  shawls. 
In  the  vestibule,  he  and  M.  de  Coralth  were  joined  by 
several  other  young  men,  and  the  whole  party  ad- 
journed to  a  neighboring  cafe.  "  These  people  are 
certainly  afflicted  with  an  unquenchable  thirst/' 
growled  Chupin.  "  I  wonder  if  this  is  their  everyday 
life?" 

He,  too,  was  thirsty  after  his  hastily  eaten  dinner; 
and  necessity  prevailing  over  economy,  he  seated  him- 
self at  a  table  outside  the  cafe,  and  called  for  a  glass 
of  beer,  in  which  he  moistened  his  parched  lips  with  a 
sigh  of  intense  satisfaction.  He  sipped  the  beverage 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  337 

slowly,  in  order  to  make  it  last  the  longer,  but  this 
did  not  prevent  his  glass  from  becoming  dry  long 
before  M.  Wilkie  and  his  friends  were  ready  to  leave. 
"  It  seems  to  me  we  are  going  to  stay  here  all  night/' 
he  thought,  angrily. 

His  ill-humor  was  not  strange  under  the  circum- 
stances, for  it  was  one  o'clock  in  the  morning;  and 
after  carrying  all  the  tables  and  chairs  round  about, 
inside,  a  waiter  came  to  ask  Chupin  to  go  away.  All 
the  other  cafes  were  closing  too,  and  the  fastening  of 
bolts  or  the  clanking  of  shutter  chains  could  be  heard 
on  every  side.  On  the  pavement  stood  groups  of  wait- 
ers in  their  shirt-sleeves,  stretching  and  yawning,  and 
inhaling  the  fresh  night  air  with  delight.  The  boule- 
vard was  fast  becoming  deserted — the  men  were 
going  off  in  little  groups,  and  female  forms  could  be 
seen  gliding  along  in  the  dark  shadow  cast  by  the 
houses.  The  police  were  watching  everywhere,  with 
a  word  of  menace  ever  ready  on  their  lips ;  and  soon 
the  only  means  of  egress  from  the  cafes  were  the  nar- 
row, low  doorways  cut  in  the  shutters  through  which 
the  last  customers — the  insatiable,  who  are  always 
ordering  one  thimbleful  more  to  finish — passed  out. 

It  was  through  a  portal  of  this  sort  that  M.  Wilkie 
and  his  companions  at  last  emerged,  and  on  perceiving 
them,  Chupin  gave  a  grunt  of  satisfaction.  ee  At  last," 
he  thought,  "  I  can  follow  the  man  to  his  door,  take 
his  number,  and  go  home.'' 

But  his  joy  was  short-lived,  for  M.  Wilkie  proposed 
that  the  whole  party  should  go  and  take  supper.  M. 
de  Coralth  demurred  to  the  idea,  but  the  others  over- 
ruled his  objections.,  and  dragged  him  away  with  them. 


338  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 


XIX. 

"  AH  !  this  is  a  bad  job !  "  growled  Chupin.  "  Go,  go, 
and  never  stop  !  " 

What  exasperated  him  even  more  than  his  want  of 
sleep  was  the  thought  that  his  good  mother  must  be 
waiting  for  him  at  home  in  an  agony  of  anxiety;  for 
since  his  reformation  he  had  become  remarkably  reg- 
ular in  his  habits.  What  should  he  do  ?  "  Go  home/' 
said  Reason ;  "  it  will  be  easy  enough  to  find  this  Wilkie 
again.  There  can  be  little  doubt  that  he  lives  at  No. 
48,  in  the  Rue  du  Helder."  "Remain,"  whispered 
Avarice ;  "  and,  since  you  have  accomplished  so  much, 
finish  your  work.  M.  Fortunat  won't  pay  for  conjec- 
tures, but  for  a  certainty." 

Love  of  money  carried  the  day;  so,  weaving  an  in- 
terminable chaplet  of  oaths,  he  followed  the  party  until 
they  entered  Brebant's  restaurant,  one  of  the  best 
known  establishments  which  remain  open  at  night- 
time. It  was  nearly  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  now; 
the  boulevard  was  silent  and  deserted,  and  yet  this 
restaurant  was  brilliantly  lighted  from  top  to  bottom, 
and  snatches  of  song  and  shouts  of  laughter,  with  the 
clatter  of  knives  and  forks  and  the  clink  of  glasses, 
could  be  heard  through  the  half  opened  windows. 

"Eight  dozen  Marennes  for  No.  6,"  shouted  a 
waiter  to  the  man  who  opened  oysters  near  the  res- 
taurant door. 

On  hearing  this  order,  Chupin  shook  his  clenched 
fist  at  the  stars.  "The  wretches!"  he  muttered 
through  his  set  teeth;  "bad  luck  to  them!  Those 
oysters  are  for  their  mouths,  plainly  enough,  for  there 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  339 

are  eight  of  them  in  all,  counting  those  yellow-haired 
women.  They  will,  no  doubt.,  remain  at  table  until 
six  o'clock  in  the  morning.  And  they  call  this  enjoy- 
ing themselves.  And  meanwhile,  poor  little  Chupin 
must  wear  out  his  shoe-leather  on  the  pavement.  Ah ! 
they  shall  pay  for  this ! " 

It  ought  to  have  been  some  consolation  to  him  to 
see  that  he  was  not  alone  in  his  misery,  for  in  front 
of  the  restaurant  stood  a  dozen  cabs  with  sleepy  driv- 
ers, who  were  waiting  for  chance  to  send  them  one 
of  those  half-intoxicated  passengers  who  refuse  to  pay 
more  than  fifteen  sous  for  their  fare,  but  give  their 
Jehu  a  gratuity  of  a  louis.  All  these  vehicles  belonged 
to  the  peculiar  category  known  as  "  night  cabs  "• 
dilapidated  conveyances  with  soiled,  ragged  linings,  and 
drawn  by  half-starved,  jaded  horses. 

However,  Chupin  neither  thought  of  these  vehicles, 
nor  of  the  poor  horses,  nor,  indeed,  of  the  drivers 
themselves.  His  wrath  had  been  succeeded  by  philo- 
sophical resignation ;  he  accepted  with  good  grace  what 
he  could  not  avoid.  As  the  night  air  had  become  very 
cool,  he  turned  up  the  collar  of  his  overcoat,  and  be- 
gan to  pace  to  and  fro  on  the  pavement  in  front  of 
the  restaurant.  He  had  made  a  hundred  turns  per- 
haps, passing  the  events  of  the  day  in  review,  when 
suddenly  such  a  strange  and  startling  idea  flashed 
across  his  mind  that  he  stood  motionless,  lost  in  aston- 
ishment. Reflecting  on  the  manner  in  which  M.  Wilkie 
and  the  Viscount  de  Coralth  had  behaved  during  the 
evening,  a  singular  suspicion  assailed  him.  While  M. 
Wilkie  gradually  lost  his  wits,  M.  de  Coralth  had  be- 
come remarkably  cold  and  reserved.  He  had  seemed 
to  oppose  all  M.  Wilkie's  propositions;  but  he  had 
agreed  to  them  at  last,  so  that  his  objections  had  pro- 


340  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

duced  much  the  same  effect  as  a  stimulant.  It  seemed 
then  as  if  M.  de  Coralth  had  some  strange  interest  in 
wishing  to  gain  ascendency  over  his  friend.  At  least 
such  was  Chupin's  opinion.  "  Oh,  oh  !  "  he  murmured. 
e<  What  if  he  should  be  working  up  the  same  little 
scheme?  What  if  he  were  acquainted  with  Madame 
Lia  d' Argeles  ?  What  if  he  knew  that  there's  a  fortune 
waiting  for  a  claimant?  I  shouldn't  at  all  be  surprised 
if  I  found  that  he  wanted  to  cook  his  bread  in  our 
oven.  But  father  Fortunat  wouldn't  be  pleased  with 
the  news.  Ah  !  no — he  wouldn't  even  smile " 

While  carrying  on  this  little  conversation  with  him- 
self, he  stood  just  in  front  of  the  restaurant,  looking 
up  into  the  air,  when  all  of  a  sudden  a  window  was 
thrown  noisily  open,  and  the  figures  of  two  men  be- 
came plainly  visible.  They  were  engaged  in  a  friendly 
struggle ;  one  of  them  seemed  to  be  trying  to  seize  hold 
of  something  which  the  other  had  in  his  hand,  and 
which  he  refused  to  part  with.  One  of  these  men  was 
M.  Wilkie  as  Chupin  at  once  perceived.  "  Good !  "  he 
said  to  himself ;  "  this  is  the  beginning  of  the  end ! " 

As  he  spoke,  M.  Wilkie's  hat  fell  on  the  window-sill, 
slipped  off,  and  dropped  on  to  the  pavement  below. 
With  a  natural  impulse  Chupin  picked  it  up,  and  he 
was  turning  it  over  and  over  in  his  hands,  when  M. 
Wilkie  leant  out  of  the  window  and  shouted  in  a  voice 
that  was  thick  with  wine :  "  Halloo  !  Eh,  there  !  Who 
picked  up  my  hat?  Honesty  shall  be  rewarded.  A 
glass  of  champagne  and  a  cigar  for  the  fellow  who'll 
bring  it  me  in  room  No.  6." 

Chupin  hesitated.  By  going  up,  he  might,  perhaps, 
compromise  the  success  of  his  mission.  But  on  the 
other  hand  his  curiosity  was  aroused,  and  he  very  much 
wished  to  see,  with  his  own  eyes,  how  these  young  men 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  341 

were  amusing  themselves.  Besides,  he  would  have  an 
opportunity  of  examining  this  handsome  viscount, 
whom  he  was  certain  he  had  met  before,  though  he 
could  not  tell  when  or  where.  In  the  meantime,  M, 
Wilkie  had  perceived  him. 

"  Come,  you  simpleton !  "  he  cried ;  "  make  haste. 
You  can't  be  very  thirsty." 

The  thought  of  the  viscount  decided  Chupin.  Enter- 
ing the  restaurant  and  climbing  the  staircase,  he  had 
just  reached  the  landing  when  a  pale-looking  man, 
who  had  a  smoothly-shaven  face  and  was  dressed  in 
black,  barred  his  way  and  asked:  "What  do  you 
want?" 

"  M'sieur,  here's  a  hat  which  fell  from  one  of  your 
windows  and " 

"  All  right,  hand  it  here." 

But  Chupin  did  not  seem  to  hear  this  order.  He  was 
beginning  a  long  explanation,  when  a  curtain  near  by 
was  pushed  aside,  and  M.  Wilkie  called  out :  "  Philippe ! 
eh,  Philippe ! — bring  me  the  man  who  picked  up  my 
hat." 

"  Ah !  "  said  Chupin,  "  you  see,  m'sieur,  that  he  asks 
for  me." 

"Very  well,"  said  Philippe.  "Go  on,  then."  And 
raising  the  portiere  he  pushed  Chupin  into  room  No.  6. 

It  was  a  small,  square  apartment,  with  a  very  low 
ceiling.  The  temperature  was  like  that  of  a  furnace, 
and  the  glare  of  the  gaslights  almost  blinded  one.  The 
supper  was  over,  but  the  table  had  not  yet  been  cleared, 
and  plates  full  of  leavings  showed  that  the  guests  had 
fairly  exhausted  their  appetites.  Still,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  M.  Wilkie3  every  one  present  seemed  to  be 
terribly  bored.  In  one  corner,  with  her  head  resting 
on  a  piano,  sat  one  of  the  yellow-haired  damsels,  fast 


342  THE   COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

asleep,  while,  beside  the  window,  M.  de  Coralth  was 
smoking  with  his  elbows  propped  upon  the  table.  The 
four  other  young  men  were  looking  on  phlegmatically. 
"  Ah !  here's  my  hat/'  exclaimed  M.  Wilkie,  as  soon 
as  Chupin  appeared.  "  Wait  and  receive  your  prom- 
ised reward."  And  thereupon  he  rang  the  bell,  crying 
at  the  top  of  his  voice :  "  Henry,  you  sleepy-head — a 
clean  glass  and  some  more  of  the  widow  Cliquot's 
champagne ! " 

Several  bottles  were  standing  upon  the  table,  only 
half  empty,  and  one  of  M.  Wilkie's  friends  called  his 
attention  to  this  fact,  but  he  shrugged  his  shoulders 
disdainfully.  "  You  must  take  me  for  a  fool,"  he  said, 
contemptuously.  "  A  man  doesn't  drink  stale  wine 
when  he  has  the  prospect  of  such  an  inheritance  as  is 
coming  to  me " 

"Wilkie!"  interrupted  M.  de  Coralth,  quickly; 
"  Wilkie ! " 

But  he  was  too  late;  Chupin  had  heard  and  under- 
stood everything.  His  conjectures  had  proved  correct. 
M.  Wilkie  knew  his  right  to  the  estate;  M.  Fortunat 
had  been  forestalled  by  the  viscount,  and  would  merely 
have  his  labor  for  his  pains.  "No  chance  for  the 
guv'nor !  "  thought  the  agent's  emissary.  "  And  what 
a  blow  after  the  De  Valorsay  affair!  It's  enough  to 
give  him  the  jaundice !  " 

For  a  youth  of  his  age,  Chupin  controlled  his  feelings 
admirably;  but  the  revelation  came  so  suddenly  that 
he  had  started  despite  himself,  and  changed  color  a 
trifle.  M.  de  Coralth  saw  this ;  and,  though  he  was  far 
from  suspecting  the  truth,  his  long  repressed  anger 
burst  forth.  He  rose  abruptly,  took  up  a  bottle,  and 
rilling  the  nearest  glass,  he  rudely  exclaimed :  "  Come, 
drink  that — make  haste — and  clear  out !  " 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  343 

Victor  Chupin  must  have  become  very  sensitive  since 
his  conversion.  In  former  times  he  was  not  wont  to 
be  so  susceptible  as  to  lose  his  temper  when  some  one 
chanced  to  address  him  in  a  rather  peremptory  manner, 
or  to  offer  him  wine  out  of  the  first  available  glass. 
But  M.  de  Coralth  inspired  him  with  one  of  those  in- 
explicable aversions  which  cannot  be  restrained.  "  Eh ! 
tell  me  if  it's  because  we've  drank  champagne  to- 
gether before  that  you  talk  to  me  like  that?  "  the  young 
fellow  retorted,  savagely. 

It  was  only  a  random  shot,  but  it  reached  home.  The 
viscount  seemed  touched  to  the  quick.  "  You  hear  that, 
Wilkie,"  said  he.  "  This  will  teach  you  that  the  time 
of  your  compatriot,  Lord  Seymour^  has  passed  by. 
The  good-humored  race  of  plebeians  who  respectfully 
submitted  to  the  blows  with  which  noblemen  honored 
them  after  drinking,  has  died  out.  This  ought  to  cure 
you  of  your  unfortunate  habit  of  placing  yourself  on 
terms  of  equality  with  all  the  vagabonds  you  meet." 

Chupin's  hair  fairly  bristled  with  anger.  "  What ! 
what ! "  he  exclaimed ;  "  I'll  teach  you  to  call  me  a 
vagabond,  you  scoundrel !  " 

His  gesture,  his  attitude,  and  his  eyes  were  so  ex- 
pressive of  defiance  and  menace  that  two  of  the  guests 
sprang  up  and  caught  him  by  the  arm.  "  Go,  go,"  they 
said. 

But  he  freed  himself  from  their  grasp.  "  Go !  "  he 
replied.  "Never!  He  called  me  a  vagabond.  Am  I 
to  pocket  the  insult  quietly  and  walk  off  with  it  ?  You 
can  scarcely  expect  that.  First,  I  demand  an  apology." 

This  was  asking  too  much  of  the  Viscount  de  Co- 
ralth. "  Let  the  fool  alone,"  he  remarked,  with  affected 
coolness,  "and  ring  for  the  waiters  to  kick  him  out." 


344  THE   COUNTS   MILLIONS 

It  did  not  require  this  new  insult  to  put  Chupin  in  a 
furious  passion.  "  Come  on ! "  he  exclaimed.  "  Ah, 
ha !  Where's  the  fellow  who'll  turn  me  out  ?  Let  him 
come.  I'll  teach  him  a  lesson ! "  And  as  he  spoke  he 
squared  his  shoulders,  inflated  his  chest,  and  threw  the 
weight  of  his  entire  body  on  his  left  leg,  after  the 
most  approved  method  of  sparring-masters. 

"  Go,  go !  "  insisted  Wilkie's  friends. 

"  Yes,  I'll  go  with  pleasure,  but  your  friend  must  go, 
too.  Is  he  a  man  ?  Then  let  him  come,  and  we'll  settle 
this  outside."  And  seeing  that  they  were  again  trying 
to  seize  him:  "Hands  off!"  he  thundered,  "or  I'll 
strike.  You  were  not  obliged  to  invite  me  here.  It 
isn't  my  business  to  furnish  amusement  to  parties 
who've  drunk  too  much  wine.  And  why  should  you 
despise  me?  It's  true  I  haven't  any  money  while  you 
have  plenty — that  I  work  and  you  carouse.  Still  that's 
no  reason  why  you  should  scorn  me.  Besides,  those 
who  are  poor  in  the  morning  are  sometimes  rich  in  the 
evening.  Every  dog  has  his  day.  I  have  an  idea  that 
I  shall  have  some  coin  when  yours  is  all  gone.  Then 
it  will  be  my  turn  to  laugh ;  and  as  I'm  a  good-natured 
fellow,  I  will  give  you  my  half-smoked  cigars." 

M.  Wilkie  seemed  delighted.  He  had  climbed  on  to 
the  piano  and  seated  himself,  with  his  feet  on  the  key- 
board; and  there,  as  on  a  judgment  seat,  he  listened 
and  applauded,  alternately  taking  Chupin's  part,  and 
then  the  viscount's.  "Bravo,  gamin!"  or,  "Give  it  to 
him,  Coralth ! "  he  shouted  in  turn. 

This  irritated  the  viscount  exceedingly.  "  I  see  that 
we  shall  be  obliged  to  call  in  the  police  to  settle  the 
affair,"  he  said,  sneeringly. 

"The  police!"  roared  Chupin.  "Ah!  that  won't 
do,  you  scamp "  But  his  voice  died  away  in  his 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  345 

throat,  and  he  stood  motionless,  speechless,  with  his 
arm  raised  as  if  he  were  about  to  strike,  and  his  eyes 
dilated  with  astonishment. 

For  a  change  of  expression  in  M.  de  Coralth's  face 
had  enlightened  him ;  and  he  suddenly  recollected  when 
and  under  what  circumstances  he  had  known  this  so- 
called  viscount.  He  remembered,  too,  the  name  he  had 
borne  when  he  first  met  him.  "  Oh  !  "  he  stammered ; 
"  oh !  oh  !  » 

However,  the  effect  of  this  discovery  was  to  dispel 
his  anger,  or  rather  to  restore  his  calmness,  and,  ad- 
dressing M.  de  Coralth,  he  exclaimed :  "  Don't  be  angry 
at  what  I've  said,  m'sieur;  it  was  only  a  jest — I  know 
that  there's  a  wide  difference  between  a  poor  devil 
like  me  and  a  viscount  like  you — I  haven't  a  sou,  you 
see,  and  that  maddens  me.  But  I'm  not  so  very  bad- 
looking,,  fortunately,  and  I'm  always  hoping  that  the 
daughter  of  some  rich  banker  will  fall  in  love  with  me 
and  marry  me.  Some  people  have  such  luck,  you 
know.  If  I  meet  with  any  you  may  be  sure  I  shall  pass 
myself  off  as  the  lost  child  of  some  great  personage — 
of  a  duke,  for  instance — and  if  the  real  son  exists,  and 
troubles  me,  why  I'll  quietly  put  him  out  of  the  way, 
if  possible." 

With  but  one  exception  the  persons  present  did  not 
understand  a  single  word  of  this  apparent  nonsense; 
and  indeed  the  yellow-haired  damsels  stared  at  the 
speaker  in  amazement.  Still  it  was  evident  that  each 
of  these  words  had  a  meaning,  and  a  terrible  meaning 
for  M.  de  Coralth.  Accustomed  for  years  to  control 
his  features,  he  remained  apparently  unmoved — he  even 
smiled;  but  a  close  observer  could  have  detected  an- 
guish in  his  eyes,  and  he  had  become  very  pale.  At 
last,  unable  to  endure  the  scene  any  longer,  he  drew  a 


346  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

hundred-franc  bank-note  from  his  pocketbook,  crumpled 
it  in  his  hand  and  threw  it  at  Chupin,  saying :  "  That's 
a  very  pretty  story  you  are  telling,  my  boy;  but  we've 
had  enough  of  it.  Take  your  pay  and  leave  us." 

Unfortunately,  the  note  struck  Chupin  full  in  the 
face.  He  uttered  a  hoarse  cry  of  rage,  and,  by  the 
way  in  which  he  seized  and  brandished  an  empty  bottle, 
it  might  have  been  imagined  that  M.  de  Coralth  was 
about  to  have  his  head  broken.  But  no.  Thanks  to  a 
supreme  effort  of  will,  Chupin  conquered  this  mad 
fury;  and,  dropping  the  bottle,  he  remarked  to  the 
young  women  who  were  uttering  panic-stricken  shrieks : 
"  Be  quiet ;  don't  you  see  that  I  was  only  in  fun." 

But  even  M.  Wilkie  had  found  the  fun  a  little  rough, 
and  even  dangerous.  Several  of  the  young  fellows 
present  sprang  up,  with  the  evident  intention  of  push- 
ing Chupin  out  of  the  room,  but  he  checked  them  with 
a  gesture.  "  Don't  disturb  yourselves,  gentlemen/'  he 
said.  "  I'm  going,  only  let  me  find  the  bank-note 
which  this  gentleman  threw  at  me." 

"  That's  quite  proper,"  replied  M.  Wilkie,  approv- 
ingly ;  "  look  for  it." 

Chupin  did  so,  and  at  last  found  it  lying  almost  under 
the  piano.  "  Now,"  he  remarked,  "  I  should  like  a 
cigar." 

A  score  or  so  were  lying  in  a  dish.  He  gravely 
selected  one  of  them  and  coolly  cut  off  the  end  of  it 
before  placing  it  in  his  mouth.  Those  around  watched 
him  with  an  air  of  profound  astonishment,  not  under- 
standing this  ironical  calmness  following  so  closely 
upon  such  a  storm  of  passion.  Then  he,  Victor  Chupin, 
who  had,  it  seems  to  me,  but  one  aim  in  life — to  be- 
come rich — Victor  Chupin,  who  loved  money  above 
anything  else,  and  had  stifled  all  other  passions  in  his 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  347 

soul — he  who  often  worked  two  whole  days  to  earn 
five  francs — he  who  did  not  disdain  to  claim  his  five 
sous  when  he  went  to  hire  a  cab  for  his  employer — he, 
Chupin,  twisted  the  bank-note  in  his  fingers,,  lit  it  at 
the  gas,  and  used  it  to  light  his  cigar. 

"  Ah !  he's  crazy !  "  murmured  the  yellow-haired 
damsels,  with  despair  in  their  voices. 

But  M.  Wilkie  was  enthusiastic.  "  There's  form  !  " 
said  he.  "  Fine  form  and  no  mistake  !  " 

But  Chupin  did  not  even  deign  to  turn  his  head.  He 
opened  the  door,  and  standing  on  the  threshold,  he 
bowed  to  M.  de  Coralth  with  an  ironical  smile.  "  Un- 
til we  meet  again,  Monsieur  Paul/'  said  he.  "  And 
kindly  remember  me  to  Madame  Paul,  if  you  please/* 

If  the  others  had  been  less  astonished,  they  would 
have  no  doubt  have  remarked  the  prodigious  effect  of 
this  name  upon  their  brilliant  friend.  He  became 
ghastly  pale  and  fell  back  in  his  chair.  Then,  sud- 
denly, he  bounded  up  as  if  he  wished  to  attack  his 
enemy.  But  pursuit  seemed  likely  to  yield  no  result, 
for  Chupin  was  already  on  the  boulevard. 

It  was  daybreak.  Paris  was  waking  up;  the  bakers 
were  standing  at  their  doors,  and  boys  in  their  shirt- 
sleeves', with  their  eyes  swollen  with  sleep,  were  taking 
down  the  shutters  of  the  wine-shops.  A  cloud  of 
dust,  raised  by  the  street-sweepers,  hung  in  the  dis- 
tance; the  rag-pickers  wandered  about,  peering  among 
the  rubbish;  the  noisy  milk-carts  jolted  along  at  a 
gallop,  and  workmen  were  proceeding  to  their  daily 
toil,  with  hunches  of  bread  in  their  hands.  The  morn- 
ing air  was  very  chilly;  nevertheless,  Chupin  seated 
himself  on  a  bench  across  the  boulevard,  at  a  spot 
where  he  could  watch  the  entrance  of  the  restaurant 
without  being  seen.  He  had  just  experienced  one  of 


348  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

those  sudden  shocks  which  so  disturb  the  mind,  that 
one  becomes  insensible  to  outward  circumstances,  what- 
ever they  may  be.  He  had  recognized  in  the  so-called 
Viscount  de  Coralth,  the  man  whom  he  had  hated  above 
all  others  in  the  world,  or,  rather,  the  only  man  whom 
he  hated,  for  his  was  not  a  bad  heart  Impressionable 
to  excess  like  a  true  child  of  the  faubourgs,,  he  had 
the  Parisian's  strange  mobility  of  feeling.  If  his  anger 
was  kindled  by  a  trifle,  the  merest  nothing  usually  suf- 
ficed to  extinguish  it.  But  matters  were  different  re- 
specting this  handsome  viscount !  "  God !  how  I  hate 
him  !  "  he  hissed  through  his  set  teeth.  "  God !  how  I 
hate  him!" 

For  once,  years  before,  as  he  had  confessed  to  M. 
Fortunat,  Chupin  had  been  guilty  of  a  cowardly  and 
abominable  act,  which  had  nearly  cost  a  man  his  life. 
And  this  crime,  if  it  had  been  successful,  would  have 
benefited  the  very  fellow  who  concealed  his  sinful, 
shameful  past  under  the  high-sounding  name  of  Co- 
ralth.  How  was  it  that  Chupin  had  not  recognized  him 
at  once?  Because  he  had  worked  for  this  fellow  with- 
out knowing  him,  receiving  his  orders  through  the  mis- 
erable wretches  who  pandered  to  his  vices.  He  had 
only  seen  him  personally  once  or  twice,  and  had  never 
spoken  to  him.  Later — too  late — he  discovered  what 
vile  intrigue  it  was  that  he  had  served.  And  when  he 
became  sincerely  repentant  he  loathed  this  Coralth  who 
had  caused  his  crime. 

Nor  was  this  all.  The  recognition  of  Coralth  had 
inspired  him  with  remorse.  It  had  aroused  in  the 
recesses  of  his  conscience  a  threatening  voice  which 
cried :  "  What  are  you  doing  here  ?  You  are  acting  as 
a  spy  for  a  man  you  distrust,  and  whose  real  designs 
you  are  ignorant  of.  It  was  in  this  way  you  began 


THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS  349 

before.  Have  you  forgotten  what  it  led  to  ?  Have  you 
•not  sin  enough  already  upon  your  conscience?  Blood 
enough  upon  your  hands?  It  is  folly  to  pretend  that 
one  may  serve  as  a  tool  for  villains,  and  still  remain 
an  honest  man !  " 

It  was  this  voice  which  had  given  Chupin  the  cour- 
age to  light  his  cigar  with  the  bank-note.  And  this 
voice  still  tortured  him,  as  seated  on  the  bench  he  now 
tried  to  review  the  situation.  Where,  indeed,  was  he? 
With  rare  good  luck  he  had  discovered  the  son  whom 
Madame  Lia  d'Argeles  had  so  long  and  successfully 
concealed.  But  contrary  to  all  expectations,  this  young 
fellow  already  knew  of  the  inheritance  which  he  was 
entitled  to.  M.  de  Coralth  had  already  achieved  what 
M.  Fortunat  had  meant  to  do;  and  so  the  plan  was  a 
failure,  and  it  was  useless  to  persist  in  it. 

This  would  have  ended  the  matter  if  Chupin  had  not 
chanced  to  know  the  Viscount  de  Coralth's  shameful 
past.  And  this  knowledge  changed  everything,  for  it 
gave  him  the  power  to  interfere  in  a  most  effectual 
manner.  Armed  with  this  secret,  he  could  bestow  the 
victory  on  M.  Fortunat,  and  force  M.  de  Coralth  to 
capitulate.  And  he  could  do  this  all  the  more  easily,  as 
he  was  sure  that  Coralth  had  not  recognized  him,  and 
that  he  was  perhaps  ignorant  of  his  very  existence. 
Chupin  had  allowed  himself  to  be  carried  away  by  a 
sudden  impulse  of  anger  which  he  regretted;  he  had 
made  an  ironical  illusion  to  his  enemy's  past  life,  but 
after  all  this  had  done  no  particular  harm.  So  nothing 
prevented  him  from  lending  M.  Fortunat  his  assist- 
ance, and  thus  killing  two  birds  with  one  stone.  He 
could  have  his  revenge  on  Coralth,  and  at  the  same 
time  insure  his  patron  a  large  fee,  of  which  he  could 
claim  a  considerable  share  for  himself.  But  no !  The 


350  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

idea  of  deriving  any  profit  whatever  from  this  affair 
inspired  him  with  a  feeling  of  disgust — honor  tri- 
umphed over  his  naturally  crafty  and  avaricious  nature. 
It  seemed  to  him  that  any  money  made  in  this  way 
would  soil  his  fingers:  for  he  realized  there  must  be 
some  deep  villainy  under  all  this  plotting  and  planning ; 
he  was  sure  of  it,  since  Coralth  was  mixed  up  in 
the  affair.  "  I  will  serve  my  guv'nor  for  nothing," 
he  decided.  "  When  a  man  is  avenged,  he's  well 
paid." 

Chupin  decided  upon  this  course  because  he  could 
think  of  no  better  plan.  Still,  if  he  had  been  master 
of  events  he  would  have  acted  otherwise.  He  would 
have  quietly  presented  the  government  with  this  in- 
heritance which  he  found  M.  Wilkie  so  unworthy  of. 
"The  devil  only  knows  what  he'll  do  with  it,"  he 
thought.  "  He'll  squander  it  as  my  father  squandered 
the  fortune  that  wras  given  him.  It  is  only  fools  who 
meet  with  such  luck  as  that." 

However,  his  meditations  did  not  prevent  him  from 
keeping  a  close  watch  over  the  restaurant,  for  it  was 
of  the  utmost  importance  that  M.  Wilkie  should  not 
escape  him.  It  was  now  broad  daylight,  and  customers 
were  leaving  the  establishment ;  for,  after  passing  what 
is  generally  conceded  to  be  a  joyous  night,  they  felt  the 
need  of  returning  home  to  rest  and  sleep.  Chupin 
watched  them  as  they  emerged.  There  were  some  who 
came  out  with  drooping  heads,  mumbling  incoherent 
phrases ;  while  others  who  were  equally  intoxicated,  but 
more  nervous,  evinced  considerable  animation,  and  sang 
snatches  of  songs,  or  jested  loudly  with  the  street- 
sweepers  as  they  passed  on.  The  more  sober,  sur- 
prised by  the  sunlight,  and  blushing  at  themselves, 
slunk  hastily  and  quietly  away.  There  was  one  man, 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  351 

moreover.,  whom  the  waiters  were  obliged  to  carry  to 
his  cab,  for  he  could  no  longer  stand  on  his  feet. 

At  last  Chupin  saw  the  individual  clad  in  black  whom 
Wilkie  had  addressed  as  Philippe,  and  who  had  en- 
deavored to  prevent  him  from  entering  the  restaurant, 
come  out,  and  walk  rapidly  away.  He  was  warmly  clad 
in  a  thick  overcoat,,  but  he  shivered,  and  his  pale,  wan 
face  betrayed  the  man  who  is  a  martyr  to  the  pleasures 
of  others — the  man  who  is  condemned  to  be  up  all  night 
and  sleep  only  in  the  daytime — the  man  who  can  tell 
you  how  much  folly  and  beastliness  lurk  in  the  depths 
of  the  wine-cup,  and  who  knows  exactly  how  many 
yawns  are  expressed  by  the  verb  "  to  amuse  one's  self." 
Chupin  was  beginning  to  feel  uneasy.  "  Can  M.  Wilkie 
and  his  friends  have  made  their  escape  ?  "  he  wondered. 

But  at  that  very  moment  they  made  their  appear- 
ance. They  lingered  awhile  on  the  pavement  to  chat, 
and  Chupin  had  an  opportunity  of  observing  the  effect 
of  their  night's  dissipation  on  their  faces.  The  brilliant 
sunlight  made  their  eyes  blink,  and  the  cold  sent  purple 
blotches  to  their  bloated  cheeks.  As  for  the  young 
women  with  yellow  hair,  they  appeared  as  they  really 
were — hideous.  They  entered  the  only  cab  that  re- 
mained, the  most  dilapidated  one  of  all,  and  the  driver 
of  which  had  no  little  difficulty  in  setting  his  horse  in 
motion;  whereupon  the  gentlemen  went  off  on  foot. 

Many  persons  would  have  been  vexed  and  even  hu- 
miliated by  the  necessity  of  appearing  at  this  hour  on 
the  boulevard  in  disorderly  attire,  which  plainly  indi- 
cated that  they  had  spent  the  night  in  debauchery.  But 
with  the  exception  of  the  Viscount  de  Coralth,  who  was 
evidently  out  of  humor,  the  party  seemed  delighted  with 
themselves,  as  it  was  easy  to  see  by  the  way  they  met 
the  glances  of  the  passers-by.  They  considered  them- 


352  THE   COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

selves  first-class  form — they  were  producing  an  effect 
— they  were  astonishing  people.  And  what  more  could 
they  desire? 

One  thing  is  certain — they  were  irritating  Chupin 
terribly.  He  was  following  them  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  boulevard,  at  some  little  distance  in  the  rear,  for 
he  was  afraid  of  being  recognized.  "  The  wretches !  " 
he  growled.  "  One  couldn't  draw  a  pint  of  manly  blood 
from  the  veins  of  all  six  of  them.  Ah,  if  they  knew 
how  I  hate  them  !  " 

But  he  had  not  long  to  nurse  his  wrath.  On  reach- 
ing the  Rue  Drouot,  two  of  the  gentlemen  left  the 
party,  and  two  more  went  down  the  Rue  Lepelletier. 
M.  Wilkie  and  the  viscount  were  left  to  walk  down  the 
boulevard  alone.  They  linked  their  arms  and  carried 
on  an  animated  conversation  until  they  reached  the 
Rue  du  Helder,  where  they  shook  hands  and  separated. 
What  had  they  said  at  parting?  What  agreement  had 
been  made  between  them?  Chupin  would  willingly 
have  given  a  hundred  sous  from  his  private  purse  to 
have  known.  He  would  have  given  as  much  more  to 
have  been  able  to  double  himself,  in  order  to  pursue  the 
viscount,  who  had  started  off  in  the  direction  of  the 
Madeleine,  without  having  to  give  up  watching  and 
following  his  friend.  But  the  days  of  miracles  are 
over.  So  Chupin  sighed,  and,  following  Wilkie,  he 
soon  saw  him  enter  No.  48  of  the  Rue  du  Helder.  The 
concierge,  who  was  at  the  door  busily  engaged  in  pol- 
ishing the  bell-handle,  bowed  respectfully.  "  So  there 
it  is !  "  grumbled  Chupin.  "  I  knew  he  lived  there — 
I  knew  it  by  the  way  that  Madame  d'Argeles  looked  at 
the  windows  yesterday  evening.  Poor  woman !  Ah ! 
her  son's  a  fine  fellow  and  no  mistake !  " 

His  compassion  for  the  unhappy  mother  seemed  to 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  353 

recall  him  to  a  sense  of  duty.  "  Scoundrel  that  I  am !  " 
he  exclaimed,  striking  his  forehead  with  his  clenched 
fist.  "  Why,  Fm  forgetting  my  own  good  mother ! " 
And  as  his  task  was  now  ended,  he  started  off  on  the 
run,  taking  the  shortest  cut  to  the  Faubourg  Saint- 
Denis.  "  Poor  mother ! "  he  said  to  himself  as  he  tore 
along,  "  what  a  night  she  must  have  had !  She  must 
have  cried  her  eyes  out ! " 

He  spoke  the  truth.  The  poor  woman  had  passed  a 
night  of  agony — counting  the  hours,  and  trembling 
each  time  the  door  of  the  house  opened,  announcing 
some  tenant's  return.  And  as  morning  approached,  her 
anxiety  increased.  <e  For  her  son  would  not  have  al- 
lowed her  to  remain  in  such  suspense/'  she  said  to 
herself,  "  unless  he  had  met  with  some  accident  or  en- 
countered some  of  his  former  friends — those  detestable 
scamps  who  had  tried  to  make  him  as  vile  as  them- 
selves." Perhaps  he  had  met  his  father,  Polyte 
Chupin,  the  man  whom  she  still  loved  in  spite  of 
everything,  because  he  was  her  husband,  but  whom  she 
judged,  and  whom  indeed  she  knew,  to  be  capable  of 
any  crime.  And  of  all  misfortunes,  it  was  an  accident, 
even  a  fatal  accident,  that  she  dreaded  least.  In  her 
heroic  soul  the  voice  of  honor  spoke  even  more  loudly 
than  the  imperious  instinct  of  maternity ;  and  she  would 
rather  have  found  her  son  lying  dead  on  the  marble 
slabs  of  the  Morgue  than  seated  in  the  dock  at  the 
Assize  Court. 

Her  poor  eyes  were  weary  of  weeping  when  she  at 
last  recognized  Victor's  familiar  step  approaching  down 
the  passage.  She  hastily  opened  the  door,  and  as  soon 
as  she  felt  that  he  was  near  her,  for  she  could  not  see 
him,  she  asked:  "Where  have  you  spent  the  night? 
Where  have  you  come  from?  What  has  happened?" 


354  THE    COUNT'S   MILLIONS 

His  only  answer  was  to  fling  his  arms  round  her 
neck,  following  alike  the  impulse  of  his  heart  and  the 
advice  of  experience,  which  told  him  that  this  would 
be  the  best  explanation  he  could  give.  Still  it  did  not 
prevent  him  from  trying  to  justify  himself,  although 
he  was  careful  not  to  confess  the  truth,  for  he 
dreaded  his  mother's  censure,  knowing  well  enough 
that  she  would  be  less  indulgent  than  his  own  con- 
science. 

"  I  believe  you,  my  son/'  said  the  good  woman, 
gravely;  "you  wouldn't  deceive  me,  I'm  sure."  And 
she  added :  "  What  reassured  me,  when  you  kissed  me, 
was  that  you  hadn't  been  drinking." 

Chupin  did  not  speak  a  word;  this  confidence  made 
him  strangely  uneasy.  "  May  I  be  hung/'  he  thought, 
"if  after  this  I  ever  do  anything  that  I  can't  confess 
to  this  poor  good  woman ! " 

But  he  hadn't  time  for  sentimental  reflections.  He 
had  gone  too  far  to  draw  back,  and  it  was  necessary 
for  him  to  report  the  result  of  his  researches  as  soon 
as  possible.  Accordingly,  he  hastily  ate  a  morsel,  for 
he  was  faint  with  hunger,  and  started  out  again,  prom- 
ising to  return  to  dinner.  He  was  in  all  the  greater 
haste  as  it  was  Sunday.  M.  Fortunat  was  in  the  habit 
of  passing  these  days  in  the  country,  and  Chupin  feared 
he  might  fail  to  see  him  if  he  was  not  expeditious  in 
his  movements.  And  while  running  to  the  Place  de 
la  Bourse,  he  carefully  prepared  the  story  he  meant  to 
relate,  deeply  impressed  by  the  wisdom  of  the  popular 
maxim  which  says :  "  It  is  not  always  well  to  tell  the 
whole  truth."  Ought  he  to  describe  the  scene  at  the 
restaurant,  mention  Coralth,  and  say  that  there  was 
nothing  more  to  be  done  respecting  M.  Wilkie?  After 
mature  deliberation  he  decided  in  the  negative.  If  he 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  355 

revealed  everything,  M.  Fortunat  might  become  dis- 
couraged and  abandon  the  affair.  It  would  be  better 
to  let  him  discover  the  truth  himself,  and  profit  by  his 
anger  to  indicate  a  means  of  vengeance. 

It  happened  that  M.  Fortunat  had  decided  not  to 
go  to  the  country  that  Sunday.  He  had  slept  later  than 
usual,  and  was  still  in  his  dressing-gown  when  Chupin 
made  his  appearance.  He  uttered  a  joyful  cry  on  see- 
ing his  emissary,  feeling  assured  that  he  must  be  the 
bearer  of  good  news,  since  he  came  so  early.  ee  You 
have  succeeded,  then  ?  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  Yes,  monsieur." 

"  You  have  discovered  Madame  d'Argeles's  son  ?  " 

"  I  have  him." 

"  Ah !  I  knew  that  you  were  a  clever  fellow.  Quick, 
tell  me  everything.  But  no,  wait  a  moment." 

He  rang  the  bell,  and  Madame  Dodelin  at  once  made 
her  appearance.  "  Put  another  plate  on  the  table," 
said  the  agent.  "  M.  Chupin  will  breakfast  with  me — 
and  serve'  us  at  once.  You  agree,  don't  you,  Victor  ? 
It's  ten  o'clock;  I'm  hungry;  and  we  can  talk  better 
over  a  bottle  of  wine." 

This  was  a  great  honor ;  and  it  gave  Chupin  a  fitting 
idea  of  the  value  of  the  service  he  had  rendered.  He 
was  not  too  much  elated,  however ;  though  he  felt  very 
sorry  that  he  had  eaten  before  he  came.  On  his  side, 
M.  Fortunat  by  no  means  regretted  having  conferred 
this  favor  on  his  clerk,  for  the  story  which  the  latter 
related,  caused  him  intense  delight.  "  Very  good ! — 
well  done,"  he  exclaimed  every  other  minute.  "  I  could 
not  have  done  better  myself.  You  shall  be  abundantly 
rewarded,  Victor,  if  this  affair  is  successful."  And 
at  this  thought  his  satisfaction  overflowed  in  a  com- 
placent monologue :  "  Why  shouldn't  it  succeed  ?  "  he 


356  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

asked  himself.  "  Could  anything  be  more  simple  and 
certain?  I  can  make  any  demand  I  please — one,  two, 
three  hundred  thousand  francs.  Ah,  it  was  a  good 
thing  that  the  Count  de  Chalusse  died!  Now,  I  can 
forgive  Valorsay.  Let  him  keep  my  forty  thousand 
francs;  he's  quite  welcome  to  them!  Let  him  marry 
Mademoiselle  Marguerite;  I  wish  them  a  large  and 
flourishing  family!  And  Madame  d'Argeles,  too,  has 
my  benediction ! " 

He  was  so  confident  his  fortune  was  made  that  at 
noon  he  could  restrain  himself  no  longer.  He  hired 
a  cab  and  accompanied  by  Chupin  he  set  out  for  M. 
Wilkie's  abode,  declaring  that  he  would  wake  that 
young  gentleman  up  if  needs  be,  but  at  all  events  he 
must  see  him  without  delay.  When  he  reached  the 
Rue  du  Helder,  he  told  Chupin  to  wait  in  the  cab, 
and  then  entering  the  house,  he  asked :  "  Monsieur 
Wilkie?" 

"  On  the  second  floor,  the  door  to  the  right/'  replied 
the  concierge. 

M.  Fortunat  ascended  the  stairs  very  slowly,  for  he 
felt  the  necessity  of  regaining  all  his  composure,  and 
it  was  not  until  he  had  brought  himself  to  a  proper 
frame  of  mind  that  he  rang  the  bell.  A  small  servant, 
M.  Wilkie's  fag,  who  took  his  revenge  in  robbing  his 
employer  most  outrageously,  came  to  the  door,  and 
began  by  declaring  that  his  master  was  out  of  town. 
But  M.  Fortunat  understood  how  to  force  doors  open, 
and  his  manoeuvres  succeeded  so  well  that  he  was 
finally  allowed  to  enter  a  small  sitting-room,  while  the 
servant  went  off,  saying :  "  I  will  go  and  inform  mon- 
sieur." 

Instead  of  wasting  time  in  congratulating  himself  on 
this  first  achievement  the  agent  began  to  inspect  the 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  357 

room  in  which  he  found  himself.,  as  well  as  another 
apartment,  the  door  of  which  stood  open.  For  he  was 
of  the  opinion  that  a  dwelling-place  indicates  the  char- 
acter of  its  inmate,  as  surely  as  a  shell  indicates  the 
form  of  the  creature  that  inhabits  it  M.  Wilkie  was 
comfortably  lodged ;  but  his  rooms  were  most  preten- 
tiously ornamented.  They  were  indeed  decorated  in 
more  than  doubtful  taste.  There  were  very  few  books 
lying  about,  but  costly  riding-whips,  spurs,  rifles,  cart- 
ridge-boxes, and  all  the  paraphernalia  of  a  fashionable 
sporting  man,  were  here  in  abundance. 

The  only  pictures  on  the  wall  were  a  few  portraits 
of  celebrated  horses,  which  foreshadowed  the  fact  that 
M.  Wilkie  must  have,  at  least,  an  eighth  share  in  some 
well-known  racer.  After  this  inspection,  M.  Fortunat 
smiled  complacently.  "This  young  fellow  has  ex- 
pensive tastes,"  he  thought.  e<  It  will  be  very  easy  to 
manage  him." 

However  his  reflections  were  interrupted  by  the  re- 
turn of  the  servant,  who  exclaimed :  "  My  master  is  in 
the  dining-room,  and  if  monsieur  will  enter " 

The  heir-hunter  did  enter,  and  found  himself  face  to 
face  with  M.  Wilkie,  who  was  partaking  of  a  cup  of 
chocolate.  He  was  not  only  up,  but  he  was  dressed 
to  go  out — dressed  in  such  a  style  that  he  would  have 
been  taken  for  a  respectable  groom.  A  couple  of  hours' 
sleep  had  made  him  himself  again ;  and  he  had  regained 
the  arrogance  of  manner  which  was  the  distinguishing 
trait  of  his  character,  and  a  sure  sign  that  he  was  in 
prosperous  circumstances.  As  his  unknown  visitor 
entered  he  looked  up,  and  bruskly  asked:  "What  do 
you  want  ?  " 

(t  I  called  on  business,  monsieur." 

"  Ah,  well !  this  isn't  a  favorable  moment.     I  must 


358  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

be  at  Vincennes  for  the  races.  I'm  interested  in  a 
horse.  So,  you  understand " 

M.  Fortunat  was  secretly  amused  by  M.  Wilkie's 
nonchalance.  "  The  young  fellow  won't  be  in  so  much 
of  a  hurry  when  he  learns  my  business/'  he  thought. 
And  he  replied  aloud :  "  I  can  explain  what  brings  me 
in  a  few  words,,  monsieur." 

"  Proceed,  then." 

M.  Fortunat  began  by  closing  the  door  which  had 
been  intentionally  left  open  by  the  servant;  and  then, 
returning  to  M.  Wilkie's  side,  he  began  with  an  air  of 
the  greatest  mystery :  "  What  would  you  give  a  shrewd 
man  if  he  suddenly  placed  you  in  undisputed  possession 
of  an  immense  fortune — of  a  million — two  millions, 
perhaps  ?  " 

He  had  prepared  this  little  effect  most  carefully,  and 
he  fully  expected  to  see  M.  Wilkie  fall  on  his  knees 
before  him.  But  not  at  all ;  the  young  gentleman's  face 
never  moved  a  muscle ;  and  it  was  in  the  calmest  possi- 
ble tone,  and  with  his  mouth  half  full  that  he 
replied :  "  I  know  the  rest.  You  come,  don't  you,  to 
sell  me  the  secret  of  an  unclaimed  inheritance,  which 
belongs  to  me?  Very  well,  you  have  come  too 
late." 

If  the  ceiling  had  fallen  and  crushed  M.  Fortunat 
there  and  then  he  would,  mentally  at  least,  have  not 
been  in  a  more  pitiable  condition.  He  stood  silent, 
motionless,  utterly  confounded,  with  his  mouth  wide 
open,  and  such  an  expression  of  consternation  in  his 
eyes  that  M.  Wilkie  burst  into  a  hearty  laugh.  Still 
the  agent  struggled  against  fate,  and  ultimately  fal- 
tered :  "  Let  me  explain — permit  me " 

"  Oh,  it  would  be  useless.  I  know  my  rights.  I 
have  already  arranged  with  a  party  to  prosecute  my 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  359 

claims;  the  agreement  will  be  signed  on  the  day  after 
to-morrow." 

"With  whom?" 

"  Ah,  excuse  me ;  that's  my  affair." 

He  had  finished  his  chocolate,  and  he  now  poured  out 
a  glass  of  ice-water,  drank  it,  wiped  his  mouth,  and 
rose  from  the  table.  "You  will  excuse  me,  my  dear 
sir,  if  I  leave  you,"  he  remarked.  "As  I  said  before, 
I  am  going  to  Vincennes.  I  have  staked  a  thousand 
louis  on  f  Pompier  de  Nanterre/  my  horse,  and  my 
friends  have  ventured  ten  times  as  much.  Who  knows 
what  may  happen  if  I'm  not  there  at  the  start  ?  "  And 
then,  ignoring  M.  Fortunat  as  completely  as  if  he  had 
not  existed,  M.  Wilkie  exclaimed :  "  Toby,  you  fool ! 
where  are  you?  Is  my  carriage  below?  Quick,  bring 
me  my  cane,  my  gloves,  and  my  glasses.  Take  down 
that  basket  of  champagne.  Run  and  put  on  your  new 
livery.  Make  haste,  you  little  beast,  I  shall  be  too  late." 

M.  Fortunat  left  the  room.  The  frightful  anger  that 
had  followed  his  idiotic  stupor  sent  his  blood  rushing 
madly  to  his  brain.  A  purple  mist  swam  before  his 
eyes;  there  was  a  loud  ringing  in  his  ears,  and  with 
each  pulsation  of  his  heart  his  head  seemed  to  receive 
a  blow  from  a  heavy  hammer.  His  feelings  were  so 
terrible  that  he  was  really  frightened.  "  Am  I  about 
to  have  an  attack  of  apoplexy  ?  "  he  wondered.  And,  as 
every  surrounding  object  seemed  to  whirl  around  him, 
the  very  floor  itself  apparently  rising  and  falling  un- 
der his  feet,  he  remained  on  the  landing  waiting  for 
this  horrible  vertigo  to  subside  and  doing  his  best  to 
reason  with  himself.  It  was  fully  five  minutes  before 
he  dared  to  risk  the  descent ;  and  even  when  he  reached 
the  street,  his  features  were  so  frightfully  distorted  that 
Chupin  trembled. 


360  THE    COUNTS    MILLIONS 

He  sprang  out,  assisted  his  employer  into  the  cab, 
and  bade  the  driver  return  to  the  Place  de  la  Bourse.  It 
was  really  pitiful  to  see  the  despair  which  had  suc- 
ceeded M.  Fortunat's  joyful  confidence.  "This  is  the 
end  of  everything/'  he  groaned.  "  Fm  robbed,  de- 
spoiled., ruined!  And  such  a  sure  thing  as  it  seemed. 
These  misfortunes  happen  to  no  one  but  me !  Some 
one  in  advance  of  me !  Some  one  else  will  capture  the 
prize  !  Oh,  if  I  knew  the  wretch,  if  I  only  knew  him !  " 

"  One  moment,"  interrupted  Chupin ;  "  I  think  I 
know  the  man/' 

M.  Fortunat  gave  a  violent  start.  "  Impossible  !  "  he 
exclaimed. 

"  Excuse  me,  monsieur — it  must  be  a  vile  rascal 
named  Coralth." 

It  was  a  bellow  rather  than  a  cry  of  rage  that  es- 
caped M.  Fortunat's  lips.  To  a  man  of  his  experience, 
only  a  glimmer  of  light  was  required  to  reveal  the 
whole  situation.  "  Ah !  I  understand ! — I  see !  "  he  ex- 
claimed. "  Yes,  you  are  right,  Victor ;  it's  he — Coralth 
— Valorsay's  tool !  Coralth  was  the  traitor  who,  in 
obedience  to  Valorsay's  orders,  ruined  the  man  who 
loved  Mademoiselle  Marguerite.  The  deed  was  done 
at  Madame  d'Argeles's  house.  So  Coralth  knows  her, 
and  knows  her  secret.  It's  he  who  has  outwitted  me." 
He  reflected  for  a  moment,  and  then,  in  a  very  different 
tone,  he  said :  "  I  shall  never  see  a  penny  of  the  count's 
millions^  and  my  forty  thousand  francs  are  gone  for- 
ever; but,  as  Heaven  hears  me,  I  will  have  some  sat- 
isfaction for  my  money.  Ah! — so  Coralth  and  Val- 
orsay  combine  to  ruin  me !  Very  well ! — since  this  is 
the  case,  I  shall  espouse  the  cause  of  Mademoiselle 
Marguerite  and  of  the  unfortunate  man  they've  ruined. 
Ah,  my  cherubs,  you  don't  know  Fortunat  yet!  Now 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  361 

well  see  if  the  innocent  don't  get  the  best  of  you,  and 
if  they  don't  unmask  you.  I  shall  do  my  best,  since 
you  have  forced  me  to  do  it — and  gratis  too ! n 

Chupin  was  radiant;  his  vengeance  was  assured. 
"  And  I,  monsieur,"  said  he,  "  will  give  you  some  in- 
formation about  this  Coralth.  First  of  all,  the  scoun- 
drel's married  and  his  wife  keeps  a  tobacco-shop  some- 
where near  the  Route  d'Asnieres.  I'll  find  her  for  you 
--see  if  I  don't" 

The  sudden  stopping  of  the  vehicle  which  had  reached 
the  Place  de  la  Bourse,  cut  his  words  short.  M.  For- 
tunat  ordered  him  to  pay  the  driver,  while  he  himself 
rushed  upstairs,  eager  to  arrange  his  plan  of  campaign 
— -to  use  his  own  expression.  In  his  absence  a  com- 
missionaire had  brought  a  letter  for  him  which  Madame 
Dodelin  now  produced.  He  broke  the  seal,  and  read  to 
his  intense  surprise :  "  Monsieur — I  am  the  ward  of  the 
late  Count  de  Chalusse.  I  must  speak  to  you.  Will  you 
grant  me  an  interview  on  Wednesday  next,  at  a  quar- 
ter-past three  o'clock  ?  Yours  respectfully, 

"MARGUERITE." 


XX. 


WHEN  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  left  the  dead  count's 
bedside  at  ten  o'clock  at  night  to  repair  to  Pascal 
Ferailleur's  house,  she  did  not  yet  despair  of  the  future. 
Father,  friend,  rank,  security,  fortune — she  had  lost  all 
these  in  a  single  moment — but  she  could  still  see  a 
promise  of  happiness  in  the  distance. 

She  suffered  undoubtedly,  and  yet  she  experienced 
a  sort  of  bitter  pleasure  at  the  thought  of  uniting 
her  life  to  the  man  who  was  as  unfortunate  as  her- 


362  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

self,  who  was  slandered  as  she  herself  had  been  slan- 
dered,, branded  with  the  most  cruel  and  unjust  imputa- 
tions, and  had  neither  fortune  nor  friends.  Others 
might  scorn  them;  but  what  did  they  care  for  the 
world's  disdain  so  long  as  they  had  the  approval  of 
their  consciences?  Would  not  their  mutual  esteem 
suffice  since  they  loved  each  other?  It  seemed  to 
Marguerite  that  their  very  misfortunes  would  bind 
them  more  closely  to  each  other,  and  cement  the  bonds 
of  their  love  more  strongly.  And  if  it  were  absolutely 
necessary  for  them  to  leave  France — ah,  well!  they 
would  leave  it.  To  them  Fatherland  would  always  be 
the  spot  where  they  lived  together. 

As  the  cab  approached  the  Rue  d'Ulm  she  pictured 
Pascal's  sorrow,  and  the  joy  and  surprise  he  would  feel 
when  she  suddenly  appeared  before  him,  and  faltered : 
<e  They  accuse  you — here  I  am !  I  know  that  you  are 
innocent,  and  I  love  you ! " 

But  the  brutal  voice  of  the  concierge,  informing  her 
of  Pascal's  secret  departure,  in  the  most  insulting  terms, 
abruptly  dispelled  her  dreams.  If  Pascal  had  failed 
her,  everything  had  failed  her.  If  she  had  lost  him,  she 
had  lost  her  all.  The  world  seemed  empty — struggling 
would  be  folly — happiness  was  only  an  empty  name. 
She  indeed  longed  for  death! 

Madame  Leon  who  had  a  set  of  formulas  adapted  to 
all  circumstances,  undertook  to  console  her.  "  Weep, 
my  dear  young  lady,  weep ;  it  will  do  you  good.  Ah ! 
this  is  certainly  a  horrible  catastrophe.  You  are  young, 
fortunately,  and  Time  is  a  great  consoler.  M.  Ferail- 
leur  isn't  the  only  man  on  earth.  Others  will  love  you. 
There  are  others  who  love  you  already!5' 

"  Silence !  "  interrupted  Marguerite,  more  revolted 
than  if  she  had  heard  a  libertine  whispering  shameful 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  363 

proposals  in  her  ear.  "  Silence !  I  forbid  you  to  add 
another  word."  To  speak  of  another — what  sacrilege ! 
Poor  girl.  She  was  one  of  those  whose  life  is  bound 
up  in  one  love  alone,  and  if  that  fails  them — it  is  death ! 

The  thought  that  she  was  utterly  alone  added  to  the 
horror  of  her  situation.  Whom  could  she  depend  upon  ? 
Not  on  Madame  Leon.  She  distrusted  her ;  she  had  no 
confidence  whatever  in  her.  Should  she  ask  for  the 
advice  of  either  of  her  suitors?  The  Marquis  de  Val- 
orsay  inspired  her  with  unconquerable  aversion,,  and 
she  despised  the  so-called  General  de  Fondege.  So 
her  only  friend,  her  only  protector  was  a  stranger,  the 
old  justice  of  the  peace  who  had  taken  her  defence,  by 
crushing  the  slander  of  the  servants,  and  whom  she  had 
opened  her  heart  to.  But  he  would  soon  forget  her, 
she  thought ;  and  the  future,  such  as  it  was  presented  to 
her  imagination,  seemed  a  terrible  one.  However,  she 
was  too  courageous  to  remain  for  long  in  despair — she 
struggled  against  her  sorrow ;  and  the  thought  that  she 
might,  perhaps,  reach  Pascal  through  M.  Fortunat  at 
last  occurred  to  her  mind.  This  hope  was  her  sole 
chance  of  salvation.  She  clung  to  it  as  a  shipwrecked 
mariner  clings  to  the  plank  which  is  his  only  hope  of 
life. 

When  she  returned  to  the  mansion  her  mind  was 
made  up,  and  she  had  regained  her  usual  composure. 
For  ten  minutes  or  so  she  had  been  praying  by  the 
count's  bedside,  when  M.  Bourigeau,  the  concierge,  ap- 
peared and  handed  her  a  letter  which  had  just  been 
brought  to  the  house.  It  was  addressed  to  "  Made- 
moiselle Marguerite  de  Durtal  de  Chalusse,  at  the 
Hotel  de  Chalusse,  Rue  de  Courcelles." 

Mademoiselle  Marguerite  blushed.  Who  was  it  that 
•addressed  her  by  this  name  which  she  no  longer  had 


364  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

the  right  to  bear?  She  studied  the  handwriting  for  a 
moment,  but  she  did  not  remember  ever  having  seen  it 
before.  At  last,  however,  she  opened  the  letter  and 
read :  "  My  dear,  dear  child/'  "  Dear  child ! »  indeed. 
What  could  this  mean?  Was  there  any  one  in  the 
world  sufficiently  interested  in  her  welfare,  or  loving 
her  enough,  to  address  her  in  this  style?  She  quickly 
turned  the  sheet  to  see  the  signature;  and  when  her 
eyes  fell  on  it  she  turned  pale,  "  Ah !  "  she  exclaimed, 
involuntarily,  "ah!  ah!" 

The  letter  was  signed :  "  Ath6nais  de  Fondege."  It 
had  been  written  by  the  General's  wife.  She  resumed 
her  perusal  of  it,  and  this  is  what  she  read :  <c  I  this 
instant  hear  of  the  cruel  loss  you  have  sustained,  and 
also  learn  that,  for  want  of  testamentary  provisions, 
the  poor  Count  de  Chalusse  leaves  you,  his  idolized 
daughter,  almost  without  resources.  I  will  not  attempt 
to  offer  you  consolation,  God  alone  can  assuage  certain 
sorrows.  I  should  come  and  weep  with  you  if  I  were 
not  kept  in  bed  by  illness.  But  to-morrow,  whatever 
happens,  I  shall  be  with  you  before  breakfast.  It  is  at 
such  a  time  as  this,  my  poor  dear  afflicted  child,  that 
one  can  tell  one's  true  friends;  and  we  are  yours  as  I 
hope  to  prove.  The  General  feels  that  he  should  be 
insulting  and  betraying  the  memory  of  a  man  who  was 
his  dearest  friend  for  thirty  years,  if  he  did  not  take 
the  count's  place,  if  he  did  not  become  your  second 
father.  He  has  offered  you  our  modest  home ;  you  have 
refused.  Why?  With  the  authority  conferred  upon 
me  by  my  age  and  my  position  as  the  mother  of  a 
family,  I  tell  you  that  you  ought  to  accept.  What 
other  course  can  you  possibly  think  of?  Where  would 
you  go,  my  poor,  dear  child?  But  we  will  discuss  this 
matter  to-morrow.  I  shall  find  a  way  to  persuade  you 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  365 

to  love  us,  and  to  allow  yourself  to  be  loved.  In  my 
heart  you  will  fill  the  place  of  the  beloved  and  lamented 
daughter  I  have  lost — my  beautiful  and  gentle  Bathilde. 
Once  more  I  say  farewell  until  to-morrow — trusting 
that  you  will  accept  the  sympathy  and  affection  of  your 
best  friend, 

u  ATH£NAIS  DE  FONDEGE/' 

Mademoiselle  Marguerite  was  thunderstruck,  for  the 
writer  of  this  epistle  was  a  lady  whom  she  had  only  met 
five  or  six  times,  who  had  never  visited  her,,  and  with 
whom  she  had  scarcely  exchanged  twenty  words. 
Moreover.,  she  well  remembered  certain  glances  with 
which  Madame  de  Fondege  had,  on  one  occasion,  tried 
to  crush  her — glances  so  full  of  cruel  contempt  that 
they  had  drawn  bitter  tears  of  sorrow,  shame,  and 
anger,  from  the  poor  girl.  The  count  himself  had  said 
to  her  at  the  time :  "  Don't  be  so  childish,  Marguerite, 
as  to  trouble  yourself  about  this  foolish  and  impudent 
woman/' 

And  now  this  same  woman  sent  her  a  letter  over- 
flowing with  sympathy,  and  claimed  her  affection  and 
confidence  in  the  tone  of  an  old  and  tried  friend.  Was 
such  a  change  natural?  Not  being  what  is  called  a 
credulous  person,  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  was  unable 
to  believe  it.  She  divined  that  Madame  de  Fondege  must 
have  had  some  hidden  motive  in  writing  such  a  letter 
— but  what  motive  was  it  ?  Alas  !  she  divined  this  also 
only  too  well.  The  General,  suspecting  that  she  had 
stolen  the  missing  money,  had  imparted  his  suspicions 
to  his  wife;  and  she,  being  as  avaricious  and  as  un- 
scrupulous as  himself,  was  doing  her  best  to  secure  the 
booty  for  her  son.  Such  a  calculation  is  a  common  one 
nowadays.  Steal  yourself?  Fie,  never!  You  would 


366  THE    COUNTS   MILLIONS 

not  dare.  Besides,  you  are  honest.  But  it  is  quite  a 
different  thing  to  profit  by  other  people's  rascality. 
Besides,  there  are  no  risks  to  be  encountered. 

On  perusing  the  letter  a  second  time,  it  seemed  to 
Mademoiselle  Marguerite  that  she  could  hear  the  Gen- 
eral and  his  wife  discussing  the  means  of  obtaining  a 
share  of  the  two  millions.  She  could  hear  Madame  de 
Fondege  saying  to  her  husband :  "  You  are  a  block- 
head !  You  frightened  the  girl  by  your  precipitancy 
and  roughness.  But  fortunately,  I'm  here.  Let  me 
manage  the  affair;  and  I'll  prove  that  women  are  far 
more  clever  than  men."  And,  thereupon,  she  had 
seized  her  pen,  and  commenced  this  letter.  In  Made- 
moiselle Marguerite's  opinion,  the  epistle  betrayed  the 
joint  efforts  of  the  pair.  She  could  have  sworn  that 
the  husband  had  dictated  the  sentence:  "The  General 
feels  that  he  should  be  insulting  and  betraying  the 
memory  of  a  man  who  was  his  dearest  friend  for  thirty 
years,  if  he  did  not  become  your  second  father."  On 
the  other  hand,  the  phrase,  "  I  shall  find  a  way  to 
persuade  you  to  love  us,  and  to  allow  yourself  to  be 
loved,"  was  unmistakably  the  wife's  work.  The  writer's 
insincerity  was  fully  revealed  by  one  passage  of  .the 
letter.  "  You  will  fill  the  place  of  the  beloved  daughter 
I  have  lost,"  wrote  Madame  de  Fondege.  It  is  true 
that  she  had  once  had  a  daughter;  but  the  child  had 
died  of  croup  when  only  six  months  old,  and  more  than 
twenty-five  years  previously. 

It  was  strange,  moreover,  that  this  letter  had  not 
been  sent  until  ten  o'clock  in  the  evening;  but,  on  re- 
flection, Mademoiselle  Marguerite  was  able  to  explain 
this  circumstance  satisfactorily  to  herself.  Before  tak- 
ing any  decided  step,  M.  and  Madame  de  Fondege  had 
wished  to  consult  their  son ;  and  they  had  been  unable 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  367 

to  see  him  until  late  in  the  evening.  However,  as  soon 
as  the  brilliant  hussar  had  approved  the  noble  scheme 
concocted  by  his  parents,  a  servant  had  been  dispatched 
with  the  letter.  All  these  surmises  were  surely  very 
plausible;  but  it  was  difficult  to  reconcile  them  with 
the  opinion  advanced  by  the  magistrate — that  M.  de 
Fondege  must  know  what  had  become  of  the  missing 
millions. 

Mademoiselle  Marguerite  did  not  think  of  this,  how- 
ever. She  was  losing  her  presence  of  mind  at  thought 
of  the  odious  suspicions  which  rested  on  her,  sus- 
picions which  she  had  seemed  to  read  in  the  eyes  of 
all  who  approached  her,  from  Dr.  Jodon  to  the  Marquis 
de  Valorsay.  It  is  true  that  the  magistrate  had  taken 
her  defence;  he  had  silenced  the  servants,  but  would 
that  suffice?  Would  she  not  remain  branded  by  an 
abominable  accusation  ?  And  even  the  consciousness  of 
her  innocence  did  not  reassure  her,  for  Pascal's  case 
warned  her  that  innocence  is  not  a  sufficient  safeguard 
against  slander. 

Could  she  hope  to  escape  when  he  had  succumbed? 
She  could  tell  by  the  agony  that  was  torturing  her  own 
heart,  how  much  he  must  have  suffered.  Where  was 
he  now?  Beyond  the  frontiers  of  France?  They  had 
told  her  so,  but  she  did  not,  could  not  believe  it.  Know- 
ing him  as  she  knew  him,  it  seemed  to  her  impossible 
that  he  had  accepted  his  fate  so  quickly  and  without 
a  struggle.  A  secret  presentiment  told  her  that  his 
absence  was  only  feigned,  that  he  was  only  biding  his 
time,  and  that  M.  Fortunat  would  not  have  far  to  go 
in  search  of  him.  It  was  in  M.  de  Chalusse's  bedroom 
that  she  thus  reflected,  but  a  few  steps  from  the  bed 
on  which  reposed  all  that  was  mortal  of  the  man  whose 
weakness  had  made  her  life  one  long  martyrdom,  whose 


368  THE   COUNT'S   MILLIONS 

want  of  foresight  had  ruined  her  future,  but  whom  she 
had  not  the  heart  to  censure.  She  was  standing  in 
front  of  the  window  with  her  burning  forehead  resting 
against  the  glass.  At  that  very  moment  Pascal  was 
waiting,  seated  on  the  curbstone  opposite  the  mansion. 
At  that  very  moment  he  was  watching  the  shadow 
on  the  window-curtain,,  wondering  if  it  were  not  Mar- 
guerite's. If  the  night  had  been  clear  she  might  have 
discerned  the  motionless  watcher  in  the  street  below, 
and  divined  that  it  was  Pascal.  But  how  could  she 
suspect  his  presence?  How  could  she  suspect  that  he 
had  hastened  to  the  Rue  de  Courcelles  as  she  had 
hastened  to  the  Rue  d'Ulm? 

It  was  almost  midnight  when  a  slight  noise,  a  sound 
of  stealthy  footsteps,  made  her  turn.  Madame  Leon 
was  leaving  the  room,  and  a  moment  later  Marguerite 
heard  the  house-door  leading  into  the  garden  open  and 
shut  again.  There  was  nothing  extraordinary  about 
such  an  occurrence,  and  yet  a  strange  misgiving  as- 
sailed her.  Why,  she  could  not  explain;  but  many 
trivial  circumstances,  suddenly  invested  with  a  new  and 
alarming  significance,  recurred  to  her  mind.  She  re- 
membered that  Madame  Leon  had  been  restless  .  and 
nervous  all  the  evening.  The  housekeeper,  who  was 
usually  so  inactive,  who  lounged  in  her  arm-chair  for 
hours  together,  had  been  moving  uneasily  about,  going 
up  and  down  stairs  at  least  a  dozen  times,  and  con- 
tinually glancing  at  her  watch  or  the  clock.  Twice, 
moreover.,  had  the  concierge  come  to  tell  her  that  some 
one  wished  to  see  her.  "  Where  can  she  be  going  now, 
at  midnight  ?  "  thought  Mademoiselle  Marguerite ;  <e  she 
who  is  usually  so  timid  ?  " 

At  first,  the  girl  resisted  her  desire  to  solve  the  ques- 
tion; her  suspicions  seemed  absurd  to  her,  and,  be- 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  369 

/Ides,  it  was  distasteful  to  her  to  play  the  spy.  Still, 
she  listened,  waiting  to  hear  Madame  Leon,  re-enter 
the  house.  But  more  than  a  quarter  of  an  hour  elapsed, 
and  yet  the  door  did  not  open  or  close  again.  Either 
Madame  Leon  had  not  left  the  house  at  all,  or  else 
she  was  still  outside.  "  This  is  very  strange !  "  thought 
Mademoiselle  Marguerite.  "Was  I  mistaken?  I  must 
convince  myself/'  And,  obeying  a  mysterious  influ- 
ence, stronger  than  her  own  will,  she  left  the  room  and 
went  down  the  stairs.  She  had  reached  the  hall,  when 
the  garden  door  suddenly  opened,  and  Madame  Leon 
came  in.  The  lights  in  the  hall  were  burning  brightly, 
so  that  it  was  easy  to  observe  the  housekeeper's  man- 
ner and  countenance.  She  was  panting  for  breath,  like 
a  person  who  had  been  running.  She  was  very  pale, 
and  her  dress  was  disordered.  Her  cap-strings 
were  untied,  and  her  cap  had  slipped  from  her 
head  and  was  hanging  over  her  shoulders.  "What 
is  the  matter  with  you  ? "  asked  Mademoiselle 
Marguerite  in  astonishment.  "  Where  have  you 
been?" 

On  seeing  the  girl  Madame  Leon  recoiled.  Should 
she  fly  off  or  remain?  She  hesitated  for  an  instant; 
and  it  was  easy  to  read  her  hesitation  in  her  eyes.  She 
decided  to  remain ;  but  it  was  with  a  constrained  smile 
and  in  an  unnatural  voice  that  she  replied:  "Why  do 
you  speak  to  me  like  that,  my  dear  young  lady?  One 
might  suppose  you  were  angry  with  me.  You  must 
know  very  well  that  I've  been  in  the  garden ! " 

"At  this  hour  of  the  night?" 

"  Mon  Dieu  !  yes — and  not  for  pleasure,  I  assure  you 

— not  by  any  means — I — I "  She  was  evidently 

seeking  for  some  excuse;  and,  for  a  moment  or  two, 
she  stammered  forth  one  incoherent  sentence  after  an- 


370  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

other,,  trying  to  gain  time  and  imploring  Heaven  to 
grant  her  an  inspiration. 

"  Well  ?  "  insisted  Mademoiselle  Marguerite,  impa- 
tiently. "  Why  did  you  go  out  ?  " 

"  Ah !  I — I — thought  I  heard  Mirza  barking  in  the 
garden.  I  thought  she  had  been  forgotten  in  all  the 
confusion,  and  that  the  poor  creature  had  been  shut 
out,  so  I  summoned  all  my  courage,  and '' 

Mirza  was  an  old  spaniel  that  M.  de  Chalusse  had 
been  very  fond  of,  and  the  animal's  caprices  were  re- 
spected by  all  the  inmates  of  the  house. 

"  That's  very  strange,"  remarked  Mademoiselle  Mar- 
guerite, "  for  when  you  rose  to  leave  the  room,  half  an 
hour  ago,  Mirza  was  sleeping  at  your  feet." 

«  What— really— is  it  possible?" 

"  It's  certain," 

But  the  worthy  woman  had  already  recovered  her 
self-possession  and  her  accustomed  loquacity  at  the 
same  time.  "Ah!  my  dear  young  lady/'  she  said, 
bravely,  "  I'm  in  such  sorrow  that  I'm  losing  my  senses 
completely.  Still,  it  was  only  from  the  kindest  of  mo- 
tives that  I  ventured  into  the  garden,  and  I  had  scarcely 
entered  it  before  I  saw  something  white  run  away 
from  me — I  felt  sure  it  was  Mirza — and  so  I  ran  after 
it.  But  I  could  find  nothing.  I  called  '  Mirza !  Mirza  ! ' 
and  still  nothing.  I  searched  under  all  the  trees,  and 
yet  I  could  not  find  her.  It  was  as  dark  as  pitch,  and 
suddenly  a  terrible  fear  seized  hold  of  me — such  a  terri- 
ble fright  that  I  really  believe  I  called  for  help,  and  I 
ran  back  to  the  house  half  crazed." 

Any  one  hearing  her  would  have  sworn  that  she  was 
telling  the  truth.  But,  unfortunately,  her  earlier  man- 
ner had  proved  her  guilt. 

Mademoiselle  Marguerite  was  not  deceived  when  she 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  371 

said  to  herself :  "  I  am  on  the  track  of  some  abom- 
inable act."  However,,  she  had  sufficient  self-control 
to  conceal  her  suspicions ;  and  she  pretended  to  be  per- 
fectly satisfied  with  the  explanation  which  the  house- 
keeper had  concocted.  "Ah,  my  dear  Leon,  you  are 
altogether  too  timid;  it's  absurd/'  she  said,  kindly. 

The  housekeeper  hung  her  head.  "  I  know  that  I 
make  myself  ridiculous,"  she  said,  humbly.  "  But  how 
can  I  help  it?  When  a  person's  frightened,  she  can't 
reason.  And  that  white  object  which  I  saw,  as  plainly 
as  I  see  you,  what  could  it  have  been  ?  "  And,  con- 
vinced that  her  fable  was  believed,  she  grew  bolder, 
and  ventured  to  add :  "  Oh,  my  dear  young  lady,  I 
shall  tremble  all  night  if  the  garden  isn't  searched. 
Pray  send  the  servants  out  to  look.  There  are  so  many 
thieves  and  rascals  in  Paris !  " 

Under  any  other  circumstances  Mademoiselle  Mar- 
guerite would  have  refused  to  listen  to  this  ridiculous 
request;  but,  determined  to  repay  the  hypocrite  in  her 
own  coin,  she  replied :  "  Very  well ;  it  shall  be  done." 
And  calling  M.  Casimir  and  Bourigeau,  the  concierge, 
she  ordered  them  to  take  a  lantern  and  explore  the  gar- 
den carefully. 

They  obeyed,  though  with  rather  bad  grace,  not  being 
particularly  courageous,  either  of  them,  and,  of  course, 
they  found  nothing. 

"  No  matter,"  said  Madame  Leon,  "  I  feel  safe  now." 
And  she  did  indeed  feel  more  tranquil  in  mind.  "  I 
had  a  lucky  escape ! "  she  said  to  herself.  "  What 
would  have  become  of  me,  if  Mademoiselle  Marguerite 
had  discovered  the  truth  ?  " 

But  the  housekeeper  congratulated  herself  on  her 
victory  too  soon.  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  not  only 
suspected  her  of  treason,  but  she  was  endeavoring  to 


372  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

procure  proofs  of  it.  She  felt  certain  that  the  plausible 
housekeeper  had  deceived  her,  and  cruelly  wronged  her 
as  well.  But  what  she  could  not  understand  was,  how 
Madame  Leon  had  been  able  to  do  so.  She  had  spent 
a  long  time  in  fruitless  conjectures,  when  suddenly  she 
remembered  the  little  garden  gate.  "The  deceitful 
creature  must  have  used  that  gate,"  she  thought. 

It  was  easy  for  her  to  verify  her  suspicion.  The  little 
gate  had  not  been  exactly  condemned,  but  many  months 
had  elapsed  since  it  had  been  used;  so  it  would  be  a 
very  simple  matter  to  ascertain  whether  it  had  been 
recently  opened  or  not.  "  And  I  will  know  for  certain 
before  an  hour  has  passed,"  said  Mademoiselle  Mar- 
guerite to  herself. 

Having  come  to  this  conclusion,  she  feigned  sleep, 
keeping  a  sharp  watch  over  Madame  Leon  from  be- 
tween her  half-closed  eyelids.  The  housekeeper,  after 
twisting  uneasily  in  her  arm-chair,  at  last  became  quiet 
again;  and  it  was  soon  evident  that  she  was  sleeping 
soundly.  Thereupon  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  rose  to 
her  feet  and  stole  noiselessly  from  the  room  downstairs 
into  the  garden.  She  had  provided  herself  with  a  can- 
dle and  some  matches,  and  as  soon  as  she  struck  a  light, 
she  saw  that  her  surmises  were  correct.  The  little  gate 
had  just  been  opened  and  closed  again.  The  cobwebs 
round  about  the  bolts  were  torn  and  broken;  the  rust 
which  had  filled  the  keyhole  had  been  removed,  and  on 
the  dust  covering  the  lock  the  impress  of  a  hand  could 
be  detected.  "  And  I  have  confided  my  most  precious 
secrets  to  this  wicked  woman ! "  thought  Mademoiselle 
Marguerite.  "  Fool  that  I  was !  " 

Already  thoroughly  convinced,  she  extinguished  her 
candle.  Still,  having  discovered  so  much,  she  wished 
to  pursue  her  investigation  to  the  end,  and  so  she 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  373 

opened  the  little  gate.  The  ground  outside  had  been 
soaked  by  the  recent  rains,  and  had  not  yet  dried,  and 
by  the  light  of  the  neighboring  street-lamp,  she  plainly 
distinguished  a  number  of  well-defined  footprints  on 
the  muddy  soil.  An  experienced  observer  would  have 
realized  by  the  disposition  of  these  footprints  that  some- 
thing like  a  struggle  had  taken  place  here;  but  Made- 
moiselle Marguerite  was  not  sufficiently  expert  for  that. 
She  only  understood  what  a  child  would  have  under- 
stood— that  two  people  had  been  standing  here  for 
some  time.  Poor  girl !  She  had  not  seen  Pascal  when 
he  was  sitting  in  front  of  the  mansion  some  hours 
before !  And  now  no  presentiment  warned  her  that 
these  footprints  were  his.  In  her  opinion,  the  man 
who  had  been  talking  with  Madame  Leon  was  either 
M.  de  Fondege,  or  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay — that  is 
to  say,  Madame  Leon  was  hired  to  watch  her  and  to 
render  an  account  of  all  she  said  and  did. 

Her  first  impulse  was  to  denounce  and  dismiss  this 
miserable  hypocrite;  but  as  she  was  returning  to  the 
house,  an  idea  which  an  old  diplomatist  need  not  have 
been  ashamed  of  entered  her  mind.  She  said  to  herself 
that  as  Madame  Leon  was  unmasked  she  was  no  longer 
to  be  feared;  so  why  should  she  be  sent  away?  A 
known  spy  can  undoubtedly  be  made  a  most  valuable 
auxiliary.  "  Why  shouldn't  I  make  use  of  this  wicked 
woman  ?  "  thought  Mademoiselle  Marguerite.  <e  I  can 
conceal  from  her  what  I  don't  wish  her  to  know,  and 
with  a  little  skill  I  can  make  her  carry  to  her  employers 
such  information  as  will  serve  my  plans.  By  watching 
her,  I  shall  soon  discover  my  enemy;  and  who  knows 
if,  by  this  means^  I  may  not  succeed  in  finding  an  ex- 
planation of  the  fatality  that  pursues  me  ?  " 

When    Mademoiselle    Marguerite    returned    to    her 


374  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

place  beside  the  count's  bedside,  she  had  calmly  and  ir- 
revocably made  up  her  mind.  She  would  not  only 
retain  Madame  Leon  in  her  service,  but  she  would  dis- 
play even  greater  confidence  in  her  than  before.  Such 
a  course  was  most  repugnant  to  Marguerite's  loyal, 
truthful  nature;  but  reason  whispered  to  her  that  in 
fighting  with  villains,  it  is  often  necessary  to  use  their 
weapons;  and  she  had  her  honor,  her  life,  and  her 
future  to  defend.  A  strange  and  but  imperfectly  de- 
fined suspicion  had  entered  her  mind.  To-night,  for 
the  first  time,  she  thought  she  could  discover  a  mys- 
terious connection  between  Pascal's  misfortunes  and 
her  owrn.  Was  it  mere  chance  which  had  struck  them 
at  the  same  time,  and  in  much  the  same  manner  ?  Who 
would  have  profited  by  the  abominable  crime  which 
had  dishonored  her  lover,,  had  it  not  been  for  M.  de 
Chalusse's  death  and  her  own  firmness  ?  Evidently  the 
Marquis  de  Valorsay,  for  whom  Pascal's  flight  had  left 
the  field  clear. 

All  these  thoughts  were  well  calculated  to  drive 
away  sleep;  but  the  poor  girl  was  only  twenty,  and  it 
was  the  second  night  she  had  watched  by  the  count's 
bedside.  Thus  at  last  fatigue  overcame  her,  and  she 
fell  asleep. 

In  the  morning,  about  seven  o'clock,  Madame  Leon 
was  obliged  to  shake  her  to  rouse  her  from  the  kind 
of  lethargy  .into  which  she  had  fallen.  "  Mademoi- 
selle," said  the  housekeeper,  in  her  honeyed  voice; 
"  dear  mademoiselle,  wake  up  at  once ! " 

"  What  is  the  matter?    What  is  it ?  " 

"  Ah !  how  can  I  explain  ?  My  dear  young  lady,  the 
undertaker's  men  have  come  to  make  arrangements  for 
the  ceremony." 

Those  in  charge  of  the  last  rites  had  indeed  arrived, 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  375 

and  their  heavy  tread  could  be  heard  in  the  hall  and 
in  the  courtyard.  M.  Casimir,  who  was  bursting  with 
self-sufficiency,  hurried  here,  there,  and  everywhere,  in- 
dicating,, with  an  imperious  gesture,  where  he  wished 
the  black  hangings,  embroidered  with  silver  and  em- 
blazoned with  the  De  Chalusse  arms,  to  be  suspended. 
As  the  magistrate  had  given  him  carte-blanche,  he 
deemed  it  proper,  as  he  remarked  to  Concierge  Bouri- 
geau,  to  have  everything  done  in  grand  style.  But  he 
took  good  care  not  to  reveal  the  fact  that  he  had  ex- 
acted a  very  handsome  commission  from  all  the  people 
he  employed.  The  hundred  francs  derived  from  Chupin 
had  only  whetted  his  appetite  for  more.  At  all  events, 
he  had  certainly  spared  no  pains  in  view  of  having 
everything  as  magnificent  as  possible;  and  it  was  not 
until  he  considered  the  display  thoroughly  satisfactory 
that  he  went  to  warn  Mademoiselle  Marguerite.  "  I 
come  to  beg  mademoiselle  to  retire  to  her  own  room/' 
he  said. 

"Retire—why?" 

He  did  not  reply  by  words,  but  pointed  to  the  bed  on 
which  the  body  was  lying,  and  the  poor  girl  realized 
that  the  moment  of  eternal  separation  had  come.  She 
rose,  and  dragged  herself  to  the  bedside.  Death  had 
now  effaced  all  traces  of  the  count's  last  agony.  His 
face  wore  its  accustomed  expression  again,  and  it 
might  have  been  fancied  that  he  was  asleep.  For  a 
long  time  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  stood  looking  at 
him,  as  if  to  engrave  the  features  she  would  never  be- 
hold again  upon  her  memory.  "  Mademoiselle,"  in- 
sisted M.  Casimir ;  "mademoiselle,  do  not  remain  here." 

She  heard  him,  and  summoning  all  her  strength,  she 
leaned  over  the  bed,  kissed  M.  de  Chalusse,  and  went 
away.  But  she  was  too  late,  for  in  passing  through  the 


376  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

hall  she  encountered  the  undertakers,  who  carried  on 
their  shoulders  a  long  metallic  case  enclosed  in  two 
oaken  ones.  And  she  had  scarcely  reached  her  own 
room  before  a  smell  of  resin  told  her  that  the  men 
were  closing  the  coffin  which  contained  all  that  was 
mortal  of  M.  de  Chalusse,  her  father. 

So,  none  of  those  terrible  details,  which  so  increase 
one's  grief,  were  spared  her.  But  she  had  already  suf- 
fered so  much  that  she  had  reached  a  state  of  gloomy 
apathy,  almost  insensibility;  and  the  exercise  of  her 
faculties  was  virtually  suspended.  Whiter  than  marble, 
she  fell,  rather  than  seated  herself,  on  a  chair,  scarcely 
perceiving  Madame  Leon,  who  had  followed  her. 

The  worthy  housekeeper  was  greatly  excited,  and 
not  without  cause.  As  there  were  no  relations,  it  had 
been  decided  that  M.  de  Fondege,  the  count's  oldest 
friend,  should  do  the  honors  of  the  mansion  to  the  per- 
sons invited  to  attend  the  funeral;  and  he  had  sworn 
that  he  would  be  under  arms  at  daybreak,  and  that 
they  might  positively  depend  upon  him.  But  the  hour 
fixed  for  the  ceremony  was  approaching,  several  per- 
sons had  already  arrived,  and  yet  M.  de  Fondege  had 
not  put  in  an  appearance.  "  It  is  incomprehensible," 
exclaimed  Madame  Leon.  "The  General  is  usually 
punctuality  personified.  He  must  have  met  with  some 
accident"  And  in  her  anxiety  she  stationed  herself 
at  the  window,  whence  she  could  command  a  view  of 
the  courtyard,  carefully  scrutinizing  every  fresh  ar- 
rival. 

At  last,  about  half-past  nine  o'clock,  she  suddenly 
exclaimed :  "  Here  he  is !  Do  you  hear,  mademoiselle, 
here's  the  General !" 

A  moment  later,  indeed,  there  was  a  gentle  rap  at 
the  door,  and  M.  de  Fondege  entered.  "  Ah,  I'm  late  !  " 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  37Z 

he  exclaimed;  "but,  dash  it  all!  it's  not  my  fault!"" 
And,  struck  by  Mademoiselle  Marguerite's  immobility,, 
he  advanced  and  took  her  hand.  "  And  you,  my  dear 
little  one,  what  is  the  matter  with  you?"  he  asked, 
"  Have  you  been  ill  ?  You  are  frightfully  pale." 

She  succeeded  in  shaking  off  the  torpor  which  was 
stealing  over  her,  and  replied  in  a  faint  voice :  "  I  am- 
not  ill,  monsieur." 

"  So  much  the  better,  my  dear  child,  so  much  the 
better.  It  is  our  little  heart  that  is  suffering,  is  it 
not?  Yes — yes — I  understand.  But  your  old  friends 
will  console  you.  You  received  my  wife's  letter,  did 
you  not  ?  Ah,  well !  what  she  told  you,  she  will  do—- 
she will  do  it.  And  to  prove  it,  in  spite  of  her  illness^ 
ske  followed  me — in  fact,  she  is  here ! " 


XXL 

MADEMOISELLE  MARGUERITE  sprang  to  her  feet, 
quivering  with  indignation.  Her  eyes  sparkled  and  her 
lips  trembled  as  she  threw  back  her  head  with  a  superb 
gesture  of  scorn,  which  loosened  her  beautiful  dark 
hair,  and  caused  it  to  fall  in  rippling  masses  over  her 
shoulders.  "  Ah  !  Madame  de  Fondege  is  here ! "  she 
repeated,  in  a  tone  of  crushing  contempt — "  Madame  de 
Fondege,  your  wife,  here !  " 

It  seemed  to  her  an  impossibility  to  receive  the  hypo- 
crite who  had  written  the  letter  of  the  previous  even- 
ing— the  accomplice  of  the  scoundrels  who  took  ad- 
vantage of  her  wretchedness  and  isolation.  Her  heart 
revolted  at  the  thought  of  meeting  this  woman,  who  had 
neither  conscience  nor  shame,  who  could  stoop  so  low 
as  to  intrigue  for  the  millions  which  she  fancied  had 


378  THE    COUNT'S   MILLIONS 

been  'stolen.  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  was  about  to 
forbid  her  to  enter,  or  to  retire  herself,  when  the 
thought  of  her  determination  to  act  stealthily  restrained 
her.  -She  instantly  realized  her  imprudence,  and,  mas- 
tering herself  with  a  great  effort,  she  murmured: 
"  Madame  de  Fondege  is  too  kind !  How  can  I  ever 
express  my  gratitude  ?" 

Madame  de  Fondege  must  have  heard  this,  for  at  the 
same 'moment  she  entered  the  room.  She  was  short, 
and  very  stout — a  faded  blonde,  with  her  complexion 
spoilt  by  a  multitude  of  freckles.  She  had  very  large 
hands,  broad,,  thick  feet,  and  a  shrill  voice;  and  the 
vulgarity  of  her  appearance  was  all  the  more  noticeable 
on  account  of  her  pretensions  to  elegance.  For  al- 
though her  father  had  been  a  wood-merchant,  she 
boasted  of  her  exalted  birth,  and  endeavored  to  impress 
people  with  the  magnificence  of  her  style  of  living, 
though  her  fortune  was  problematical,  and  her  house- 
hold conducted  in  the  most  frugal  style.  Her  attire 
suggested  a  continual  conflict  between  elegance  and 
economy — between  real  poverty  and  feigned  prodigal- 
ity. She  wore  a  corsage  and  overskirt  of  black  satin; 
but  the  upper  part  of  the  underskirt,  which  was  not 
visible,  was  made  of  lute-string  costing  thirty  sous  a 
yard,  and  her  laces  were  Chantilly  only  in  appearance. 
Still,  her  love  of  finery  had  never  carried  her  so  far  as 
shop-lifting,  or  induced  her  to  part  with  her  honor 
for  gewgaws — irregularities  which  are  so  common 
nowadays,  even  among  wives  and  mothers  of  families, 
that  people  are  no  longer  astonished  to  hear  of  them. 

No — Madame  de  Fondege  was  a  faithful  wife,  in  the 
strict  and  legal  sense  of  the  word.  But  how  she  re- 
venged herself  !  She  was  "  virtuous ;  "  but  so  dan- 
gerously virtuous  that  one  might  have  supposed  she 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  379 

was  so  against  her  will,  and  that  she  bitterly  regretted 
it.  She  ruled  her  husband  with  a  rod  of  iron.  And 
he  who  was  so  terrible  in  appearance,  he  who  twirled 
his  ferocious  mustaches  in  such  a  threatening  manner, 
he  who  swore  horribly  enough  to  make  an  old  hussar 
blush,  became  more  submissive  than  a  child,  and  more 
timid  than  a  lamb  when  he  was  beside  his  wife.  He 
trembled  when  she  turned  her  pale  blue  eyes  upon  him 
in  a  certain  fashion.  And  woe  to  him  if  he  ventured 
to  rebel.  She  suppressed  his  pocket-money,  and  during 
these  penitential  seasons  he  was  reduced  to  the  neces- 
sity of  asking  his  friends  to  lend  him  twenty-franc 
pieces,  which  he  generally  forgot  to  return. 

Madame  de  Fondege  was.  as  a  rule,  most  imperious, 
envious,  and  spiteful  in  disposition :  but  on  coming  to 
the  Hotel  de  Chalusse  she  had  provided  herself  with 
any  amount  of  sweetness  and  sensibility,  and  when  she 
entered  the  room,  she  held  her  handkerchief  to  her  lips 
as  if  to  stifle  her  sobs.  The  General  led  her  toward 
Mademoiselle  Marguerite,  and,  in  a  semi-solemn,  semi- 
sentimental  tone,  he  exclaimed :  "  Dear  Athenais,  this 
is  the  daughter  of  my  best  and  oldest  friend.  I  know 
your  heart — I  know  that  she  will  find  in  you  a  second 
mother." 

Mademoiselle  Marguerite  stood  speechless  and  rigid. 
Persuaded  that  Madame  de  Fondege  was  about  to 
throw  her  arms  round  her  neck  and  kiss  her,  she  was 
imposing  the  most  terrible  constraint  upon  herself,  in 
order  to  conceal  her  horror  and  aversion.  But  she  was 
unnecessarily  alarmed.  The  hypocrisy  of  the  General's 
wife  was  superior  to  that  of  Madame  Leon.  Madame 
de  Fondege  contented  herself  with  pressing  Mademoi- 
selle Marguerite's  hands  and  faltering :  "  What  a  mis- 
fortune !  So  young — so  sudden  !  It  is  frightful ! ?> 


380  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

And,,  as  she  received  no  reply,  she  added,  with  an  air 
of  sorrowful  dignity :  u  I  dare  not  ask  your  full  confi- 
dence, my  dear  unfortunate  child.  Confidence  can  be 
born  only  of  long  acquaintance  and  mutual  esteem. 
But  you  will  learn  to  know  me.  You  will  give  me  that 
sweet  name  of  mother  when  I  shall  have  deserved  it." 

Standing  at  a  little  distance  off,  the  General  listened 
with  the  air  of  a  man  who  has  a  profound  respect  for 
his  wife's  ability.  "  Now  the  ice  is  broken,"  he 
thought.,  "  it  will  be  strange  if  Atbenais  doesn't  do 
whatever  she  pleases  with  that  little  savage." 

His  hopes  were  so  brightly  reflected  upon  his  counte- 
nance, that  Madame  Leon,  who  was  furtively  watching 
him,  became  alarmed.  "  Ah !  what  do  these  people 
want?"  she  said  to  herself:  "and  what  do  all  these 
endearments  mean?  Upon  my  word,  I  must  warn  my 
patron  at  once/''  And,  fancying  that  no  one  noticed 
her,  she  slipped  quietly  and  noiselessly  from  the  room. 

But  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  was  on  the  watch.  De- 
termined to  fathom  the  plotting  that  was  going  on 
around  her,  and  frustrate  it,  she  realized  that  every- 
thing depended  upon  her  watchfulness  and  her  ability 
to  profit  even  by  the  most  futile  incidents.  She  had 
noticed  the  General's  triumphant  smile,  and  the  look  of 
anxiety  that  had  suddenly  clouded  Madame  Leon's  face. 
so,  without  troubling  herself  about  "  the  proprieties/' 
she  asked  M.  and  Madame  de  Fondege  to  excuse  her 
for  a  second,  and  darted  after  the  housekeeper.  Ah ! 
she  did  not  need  to  go  far.  Leaning  over  the  banisters, 
she  saw  Madame  Leon  and  the  Marquis  de  Valorsay  in 
earnest  conversation  in  the  hall  below;  the  marquis  as 
phlegmatic  and  as  haughty  as  usual,  but  the  house- 
keeper fairly  excited.  Marguerite  at  once  understood 
that  as  Madame  Leon  knew  that  the  marquis  was 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  381 

among  the  funeral  guests,  she  had  gone  to  warn  him  of 
Madame  de  Fondege'"s  presence.  This  trivial  circum- 
stance proved  that  M.  de  Fondege's  interests  were  op- 
posed to  those  of  M.  de  Valorsay;  that  they  must, 
therefore,  hate  each  other,  and  that,,  with  a  little 
patience  and  skill,  she  might  utilize  them,  one  against 
the  other.  It  also  proved  that  Madame  Leon  was  the 
Marquis  de  Valorsay's  paid  spy,  and  that  he  must 
therefore  have  long  been  aware  of  Pascal's  existence. 
But  she  lacked  the  time  to  follow  out  this  train  of 
thought.  Her  absence  might  awaken  the  Fondeges' 
suspicions;  and  her  success  depended  on  letting  them 
suppose  that  she  was  their  dupe.  She  therefore  re- 
turned to  them  as  soon  as  possible,  excusing  herself  for 
ker  abrupt  departure  as  well  a^  she  could ;  but  she  was 
not  accustomed  to  deceive,  and  her  embarrassment 
might  have  betrayed  her  had  it  not  been  for  the  Gen- 
eral, who  fortunately  interrupted  her  by  saying :  "  I, 
too,  must  excuse  myself,  my  dearxchild;  but  Madame 
de  Fondege  will  remain  with  you.  I  must  fulfil  a 
sacred  duty.  They  are  waiting  for  me  downstairs,  and 
they  are  no  doubt  becoming  impatient.  It  is  the  first 
time  in  my  life  that  I  was  ever  behind  time." 

The  General  was  right  in  losing  no  more  time.  At 
least  a  hundred  and  fifty  guests  had  assembled  in  the 
reception-rooms  on  the  ground  floor,  and  they  were 
beginning  to  think  it  very  strange  that  they  should  be 
kept  waiting  in  this  style.  And  yet  curiosity  somewhat 
tempered  their  impatience.  Some  of  the  strange  cir- 
cumstances attending  the  count's  death  had  been  noised 
abroad;  and  some  well-informed  persons  declared  that 
a  fabulous  sum  of  money  had  been  stolen  by  a  young 
girl.  It  is  true,  they  did  not  think  this  embezzlement  a 
positive  crime.  It  certainly  proved  that  the  young 


382  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

lady  in  question  possessed  a  strong  and  determined 
character ;  and  many  of  the  proudest  among  the  guests 
would  gladly  have  taken  the  place  of  De  Valorsay,  who, 
it  was  rumored,,  was  about  to  marry  the  pretty  thief 
and  her  millions. 

The  person  who  was  most  disturbed  by  the  delay 
was  the  master  of  the  ceremonies.  Arrayed  in  his  best 
uniform,,  his  thin  legs  encased  in  black  silk  stockings, 
his  mantle  thrown  gracefully  over  his  shoulders,  and 
his  cocked  hat  under  his  arm,  he  was  looking  anxiously 
about  for  some  one  in  the  assembled  crowd  to  whom 
he  could  give  the  signal  for  departure.  He  was  already 
talking  of  starting  off  when  M.  de  Fondege  appeared. 
The  friends  of  M.  de  Chalusse  who  were  to  hold  the 
cords  of  the  pall  came  forward.  There  was  a  moment's 
confusion,  then  the  hearse  started,  and  the  whole 
cortege  filed  out  of  the  courtyard. 

Deep  silence  followed,  so  deep  that  the  noise  made  in 
closing  the  heavy  gates  came  upon  one  with  startling 
effect.  "  Ah !  "  moaned  Madame  de  Fondege,  "  it  is 
over." 

Marguerite's  only  reply  was  a  despairing  gesture. 
It  would  have  been  impossible  for  her  to  articulate  a 
syllable — her  tears  were  choking  her.  What  would  she 
not  have  given  to  be  alone  at  this  moment — -to  have 
been  able  to  abandon  herself  without  constraint  to  heV 
emotions !  Alas !  prudence  condemned  her  to  play  a 
part  even  now.  The  thought  of  her  future  and  her 
honor  lent  her  strength  to  submit  to  the  deceitful  con- 
solations of  a  woman  whom  she  knew  to  be  a  danger- 
ous enemy.  And  the  General's  wife  was  by  no  means 
sparing  of  her  consolatory  phrases ;  in  fact,  it  was  (only 
after  a  long  homily  on  the  uncertainty  of  life  below 
that  she  ventured  to  approach  the  subject  of  her  letter 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  383 

of -the  previous  evening.  "For  it  is  necessary  to  face 
the  inevitable,"  she  pursued.  "The  troublesome  reali- 
ties of  life  have  no  respect  for  our  grief.  So  it  is  with 
you,  my  dear  child ;  you  would  find  a  bitter  pleasure  in 
giving  vent  to  your  sorrow,  but  you  are  compelled  to 
think  of  your  future.  As  M.  de  Chalusse  has  no  heirs, 
this  house  will  be  closed — you  can  remain  here  no 
longer." 

"  I  know  it,  madame." 

"  Where  will  you  go  ?  " 

"Alas!  I  don't  know." 

Madame  de  Fondege  raised  her  handkerchief  to  her 
eyes  as  if  to  wipe  a  furtive  tear  away,  and  then,  almost 
roughly,  she  exclaimed :  "  I  must  tell  you  the  truth,  my 
child.  Listen  to  me.  I  see  only  two  courses  for  you 
to  adopt.  Either  to  ask  the  protection  of  some  respect- 
able family,  or  to  enter  a  convent.  This  is  your  only 
hope  of  safety." 

Mademoiselle  Marguerite  bowed  her  head,  without 
replying.  To  learn  the  plans  which  the  General's  wife 
had  formed  she  must  let  her  disclose  them.  However, 
the  girl's  silence  seemed  to  make  Madame  de  Fondege 
uncomfortable,  and  at  last  she  resumed :  "  Is  it  possible 
that  you  think  of  braving  the  perils  of  life  alone?  I 
cannot  believe  it!  It  would  be  madness.  Young, 
beautiful,  and  attractive  as  you  are,  it  is  impossible  for 
you  to  live  unprotected.  Even  if  you  had  sufficient 
strength  of  character  to  lead  a  pure  and  honest  life, 
the  world  would  none  the  less  refuse  you  its  esteem. 
Mere  prejudice,  you  say?  You  are  quite  right;  but  it 
is  nevertheless  true  that  a  young  girl  who  braves  public 
opinion  is  lost." 

It  was  easy  to  see  by  Madame  de  Fondege's  earnest- 
ness that  she  feared  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  would 


384  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

avail  herself  of  this  opportunity  of  recovering  her  lib- 
erty. "What  shall  I  do,  then?"  asked  the  girl. 

"  There  is  the  convent/' 

"  But  I  love  life/' 

"  Then  ask  the  protection  of  some  respectable  family."' 

"  The  idea  of  being  in  any  one's  charge  is  disagree- 
able to  me." 

Strange  to  say,  Madame  d«  Fondege  did  not  protest. 
did  not  speak  of  her  own  house.  She  was  too  proud 
for  that.  Having  once  offered  hospitality,  she  thought 
it  would  arouse  suspicion  if  she  insisted.  So  she  con- 
tented herself  with  enumerating  the  arguments  for  and 
against  the  two  propositions,  remarking  from  time  to 
time :  "  Come,  you  must  decide  !  Don't  wait  until  the 
last  moment !  " 

Mademoiselle  Marguerite  had  already  decided :  but 
before  announcing  her  decision,  she  wished  to  confer 
with  the  only  friend  she  Irad  in  the  world — the  old  jus- 
tice of  the  peace.  On  the  previous  evening  he  had  said 
to  her:  "Farewell  until  to-morrow,"  and  knowing  that 
his  work  in  the  house  had  not  been  concluded,  she  was 
extremely  surprised  that  he  had  not  yet  put  in  an  ap- 
pearance. 

While  conversing  with  Madame  de  Fondege  she  had 
dexterously  avoided  compromising  herself  in  any  way, 
when  suddenly  a  servant  appeared  and  announced  the 
magistrate's  arrival.  He  entered  the  room,  with  his 
usual  benevolent  smile  upon  his  lips,  but  his  searching 
eyes  were  never  once  taken  off  Madame  de  Fondege's 
face.  He  bowed,  made  a  few  polite  remarks,  and  then 
addressing  Marguerite,  he  said :  "  I  must  speak  with 
you,  mademoiselle,  at  once.  You  may  tell  madame, 
however,  that  you  will  certainly  return  in  less  than  a 
quarter  of  an  hour." 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  385 

Marguerite  followed  him.  and  when  they  were  alone 
in  the  count's  study  and  the  doors  had  been  carefully 
closed.,  the  magistrate  exclaimed :  "  I  have  been  think- 
ing a  great  deal  of  you,  my  child,  a  great  deal ;  and  it 
seems  to  me  that  I  can  explain  certain  things  which 
worried  you  yesterday.  But  first  of  all,  what  has  hap- 
pened since  I  left  you  ?  " 

Briefly,  but  with  remarkable  precision,  Marguerite 
recounted  the  various  incidents  which  had  occurred — 
her  useless  journey  to  the  Rue  d'Ulm,  Madame  Leon's 
strange  midnight  ramble  and  conversation  with  the 
Marquis  de  Valorsay,  Madame  de  Fondege's  letter,  and 
lastly,  her  visit  and  all  that  she  had  said. 

The  magistrate  listened  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  his 
ring.  "This  is  very  serious,  very  serious,"  he  said  at 
last.  "  Perhaps  you  are  right.  Perhaps  M.  Ferailleur 
is  innocent.  And  yet,  why  should  he  abscond?  why 
should  he  leave  the  country?'" 

"  Ah !  monsieur,  Pascal's  flight  is  only  feigned.  He 
is  in  Paris — concealed  somewhere — I'm  sure  of  it;  and 
I  know  a  man  who  will  find  him  for  me.  Only  one 
thing  puzzles  me — his  silence.  To  disappear  without 
a  word,  without  giving  me  any  sign  of  life — 

The  magistrate  interrupted  her  by  a  gesture.  "  I 
see  nothing  surprising  in  that  since  your  companion  is 
the  Marquis  de  Valorsay' s  spy.  How  do  you  know  that 
she  has  not  intercepted  or  destroyed  some  letter  from 
M.  Pascal?" 

Mademoiselle  Marguerite  turned  pale.  "  Great 
Heavens !  how  blind  I  have  been !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  I 
did  not  think  of  that.  Oh,  the  wretch!  if  one  could 
only  question  her  and  make  her  confess  her 
crime.  It  is  horrible  to  think  that  if  I  wish  to 
arrive  at  the  truth.  1  must  remain  with  her 


386  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

and  treat  her  in  the  future  just  as  I  have  treated  her 
till  now." 

But  the  magistrate  was  not  the  man  to  wander  from 
the  subject  he  was  investigating.  "  Let  us  return  to 
Madame  de  Fondege,"  said  he.  "  She  is  extremely  tm- 
willing  to  see  you  go  out  into  the  world  alone.  Why? — 
through  affection  ?  No.  Why,  then  ?  This  is  what  we 
must  ascertain.  Secondly,  she  seems  indifferent  as  to 
whether  you  accept  her  hospitality  or  enter  a  convent/' 
"  She  seems  to  prefer  that  I  should  enter  a  convent." 
"Very  well.  What  conclusion  can  we  draw  from 
that?  Simply,,  that  the  Fondege  family  don't  particu- 
larly care  about  keeping  you  with  them,  or  marrying 
you  to  their  son.  If  they  don't  desire  this,  it  is  beeanse 
they  are  perfectly  sure  that  the  missing  money  was  not 
taken  by  you.  Now,  let  me  ask,  how  can  they  be  so 
certain?  Simply  because  they  know  where  the  missing 
millions  are — and  if  they  know — 

"Ah!  monsieur,  it  is  because  they've  stolen  them!" 
The  magistrate  was  silent.  He  had  turned  the  bezel 
of  his  ring  inside,  a  sure  sign  of  stormy  weather,  so  his 
clerk  would  have  said — and  though  he  had  his  features 
under  excellent  control  he  could  not  entirely  conceal 
some  signs  of  a  severe  mental  conflict  he  was  under- 
going. "  Well,  yes,  my  child,"  he  said,  at  last.  "  Yes, 
it  is  my  conviction  that  the  Fondeges  possess  the  mil- 
lions you  saw  in  the  count's  escritoire,  and  which  we 
have  been  unable  to  find.  How  they  obtained  posses- 
sion of  the  money  I  can't  conceive — but  they  have  it, 
or  else  logic  is  no  longer  logic."  He  paused  again  lor 
a  moment,  and  then  he  resumed,  more  slowly :  **  In 
acquainting  you  with  my  opinion  on  this  subject,  I  have 
given  you,  a  young  girl,  almost  a  child,  a  prooi  ©f 
esteem  and  confidence  which,  it  seems  to  me,  few  men 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  387 

are  worthy  of ;  for  I  may  be  deceived,  and  a  magistrate 
ought  not  to  accuse  a  person  unless  he  is  absolutely 
certain  of  his  guilt.  So  you  must  forget  what  I  have 
just  told  you,  Mademoiselle  Marguerite." 

She  looked  at  him  with  an  air  of  utter  astonishment. 
"  You  advise  me  to  forget,"  she  murmured,  "you  wish 
me  to  forget." 

"  Yes ;  you  must  conceal  these  suspicions  in  the  deep- 
est recesses  of  your  heart,  until  the  time  comes  when 
you  have  sufficient  proof  to  convict  the  culprits.  It  is 
true  that  it  will  be  a  difficult  task  to  collect  such  proofs ; 
but  it  is  not  impossible,  with  the  aid  of  time,  which 
divulges  so  many  crimes.  And  you  may  count  upon 
me ;  I  will  give  you  the  benefit  of  all  my  influence  and 
experience.  It  shall  never  be  said  that  I  allowed  a 
defenceless  girl  to  be  crushed  while  I  saw  any  chance 
of  saving  her." 

Tears  came  to  Mademoiselle  Marguerite's  eyes.  So 
the  world  was  not  composed  entirely  of  scoundrels! 
"  Ah !  how  kind  you  are,  monsieur,"  she  said ;  "  how 
kind  you  are  !  " 

"  To  be  sure ! "  he  interrupted,  in  a  benevolent  tone. 
"  But,  my  child,  you  must  help  yourself.  Remember 
this :  if  the  Fondeges  suspect  our  suspicions,  ail  is  lost. 
Repeat  this  to  yourself  at  every  moment  in  the  day— 
and  be  discreet,  impenetrable;  for  people  with  unclean 
consciences  and  hands  are  always  distrustful  of  others." 

There  was  no  necessity  to  say  anything  more  on  this 
point ;  and  so,  with  a  sudden  change  of  tone  he  asked : 
**  Have  you  any  plan  ?  " 

She  felt  that  she  could,  and  ought,  ta  confide  every- 
thing to  this  worthy  old  man,  and  so  rising  to  feer  feet, 
with  a  look  of  energy  and  determination  on  her  face, 
she  replied  in  a  firm  voice :  "  My  decision  is  taken, 


388  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

monsieur,  subject,  of  course,  to  your  approval.  In  the 
first  place  I  shall  keep  Madame  Leon  with  me,  in  what- 
ever capacity  she  likes,  it  doesn't  matter  what.  Through 
her  I  shall  no  doubt  be  able  to  watch  the  Marquis  de 
Valorsay,  and  perhaps  eventually  discover  his  hopes 
and  his  aim.  In  the  second  place,  I  shall  accept  the 
hospitality  offered  me  by  the  General  and  his  wife. 
With  them,  I  shall  be  in  the  very  centre  of  the  intrigue, 
and  in  a  position  to  collect  proofs  of  their  infamy." 

The  magistrate  gave  vent  to  an  exclamation  of  de- 
light "You  are  a  brave  girl,  Mademoiselle  Margue- 
rite/' he  said,  "and  at  the  same  time  a  prudent  one. 
Yes ;  that  is  the  proper  course  to  pursue." 

Nothing  now  remained  save  to  make  arrangements 
for  her  departure.  She  possessed  some  very  handsome 
diamonds  and  other  costly  jewels;  should  she  keep 
them?  "They  are  undoubtedly  mine,"  said  she;  "but 
after  the  infamous  accusations  levelled  at  me,  I  can't 
consent  to  take  them  away  with  me.  They  are  worth  a 
very  handsome  amount.  I  shall  leave  them  with  you, 
monsieur.  If  the  courts  restore  them  to  me  later — • 
well — I  shall  take  them — and  not  without  pleasure,  I 
frankly  confess."  Then  as  the  magistrate  questioned 
her  anxiously  as  to  her  resources,  she  replied:  "Oh! 
I'm  not  without  money.  M.  de  Chalusse  was  generos- 
ity itself.,  and  my  tastes  are  very  simple.  From  the 
money  he  gave  me  for  my  clothes  I  saved  more  than 
eight  thousand  francs  in  less  than  six  months.  That  is 
more  than  sufficient  to  maintain  me  for  a  year." 

The  magistrate  then  explained  that  when  the  court 
took  possession  of  this  immense  estate,  it  would  surely 
allow  her  a  certain  sum.  For  whether  the  count  was 
her  father  or  not,  he  was  at  any  rate  her  officially  ap- 
pointed guardian,  and  she  would  be  considered  a  minor. 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  389 

And  in  support  of  his  assertion,  he  quoted  Article  367 
of  the  Civil  Code,  which  says :  "  In  the  event  of  the 
officially  appointed  guardian  dying  without  adopting 
his  ward,  the  said  ward  shall  he  furnished  during  her 
minority  with  the  means  of  subsistence  from  the  said 
guardian's  estate/'  etc.,  etc. 

"  An  additional  reason  why  I  should  give  up  my 
jewels/'  said  Mademoiselle  Marguerite. 

The  only  point  that  now  remained  was  to  decide  upon 
some  plan  by  which  she  could  communicate  with  her 
friend,  the  magistrate,  without  the  knowledge  of  the 
General  or  his  wife.  The  magistrate  accordingly  ex- 
plained a  system  of  correspondence  which  would  defy 
the  closest  surveillance,  and  then  added :  "  Now.  make 
haste  back  to  your  visitor.  Who  knows  what  sus- 
picions your  absence  may  have  caused  her  ?  " 

But  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  had  one  more  request 
to  make.  She  had  often  seen  in  M.  de  Chalusse*s  pos- 
session a  little  note-book,  in  which  he  entered  the 
names  and  addresses  of  the  persons  with  whom  he  had 
business  transactions.  M.  Fortunat's  address  must  be 
there,  so  she  asked  and  obtained  permission  to  examine 
this  note-book,  and  to  her  great  joy,  under  the  letter 
"  F/'  she  found  the  entry:  "  Fortunat  (Isidore),  No. 
28  Place  de  la  Bourse."  "  Ah !  I'm  sure  that  I  shall 
find  Pascal  now ! "  she  exclaimed.  And  after  once 
more  thanking  the  magistrate,  she  returned  to  her  room 
again. 

Madame  de  Fondege  was  awaiting  her  with  feverish 
impatience.  "  How  long  you  stayed !  "  she  cried. 

"  I  had  so  many  explanations  to  give,  madame." 

"  How  you  are  tormented,  my  poor  child  !  " 

"  Oh,  shamefully !  » 

This  furnished  Madame  de  Fondege  with  another 


390  THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS 

excuse  for  proffering  her  advice.  But  Mademoiselle 
Marguerite  would  not  allow  herself  to  be  convinced  at 
once.  She  raised  a  great  many  objections,  and  par- 
leyed for  a  long  time  before  telling  Madame  de  Fon- 
dege  that  she  would  be  happy  to  accept  the  hospitality 
which  had  been  offered  her.  And  her  consent  was  by 
no  means  unconditional.  She  insisted  on  paying  her 
board.,  and  expressed  the  wish  to  retain  the  services  of 
Madame  Leon  to  whom  she  was  so  much  attached.  The 
worthy  housekeeper  was  present  at  this  conference. 
For  an  instant  she  had  feared  that  Mademoiselle  Mar- 
guerite suspected  her  manoeuvres,  but  her  fears  were 
now  dispelled,  and  she  even  congratulated  herself  on 
her  skilfulness.  Everything  was  arranged,  and  the 
agreement  had  been  sealed  with  a  kiss,  when  the  Gen- 
eral returned  about  four  o'clock.  "  Ah,  my  dear ! '' 
cried  his  wife,  "  what  happiness !  We  have  a  daughter !"? 

But  even  this  intelligence  was  scarcely  sufficient  to 
revive  her  husband's  drooping  spirits.  He  had  almost 
fainted  when  he  heard  the  earth  falling  on  M.  de  Cha- 
lusse's  coffin;  and  this  display  of  weakness  on  the  part 
of  a  man  adorned  with  such  terrible  and  ferocious 
mustaches  had  excited  no  little  comment.  "  Yes,  it .  is 
a  great  happiness !  "  he  now  replied.  "  But  thunder 
and  lightning !  I  never  doubted  the  dear  girl's  heart !  " 

Still  both  he  and  his  wife  could  scarcely  conceal  their 
disappointment  when  the  magistrate  informed  them  that 
their  beloved  daughter  would  not  take  her  diamonds. 
"  Dash  it  t  "  growled  the  General.  "  I  recognize  her 
father  in  this !  What  delicacy !  almost  too  much,  per- 
haps!" 

However,  when  the  magistrate  informed  him  that 
the  court  would  undoubtedly  order  the  restitution  of  the 
jewels,  his  face  brightened  again,  and  he  went  down 


THE    COUNT'S    MILLIONS  391 

to  superintend  the  removal  of  Mademoiselle  Margue- 
rite's trunks,  which  were  being  loaded  on  one  of  the 
vehicles  of  the  establishment. 

Then  the  moment  of  departure  came.  Mademoiselle 
Marguerite  acknowledged  the  parting  remarks  of  the 
servants,  who  were  secretly  delighted  to  be  freed  from 
her  presence,  and  then,  before  entering  the  carriage,  she 
cast  a  long,  sad  look  upon  this  princely  mansion  which 
she  had  once  had  the  right  to  believe  her  own,  but 
which  she  was,  alas !  now  leaving,  in  all  probability, 
for  ever, 

The  conclusion  of  this  exciting  narrative  will  be  found 
in  the  volume  called  "Baron  TrigauWs  Vengeance." 


